


The Tale of Harry Midgardson

by JunjouSlashGirl



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Marvel, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Crossover, Dom Loki (Marvel), M/M, Marvel Universe, Mpreg, Sub Harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2020-01-31 16:28:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 40,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18595072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JunjouSlashGirl/pseuds/JunjouSlashGirl
Summary: Death and his three sisters the Norns had important plans for one Harry Potter and they would not let them be destroyed by a mere muggle.After Harry's fifth year at Hogwarts, the violence at his relatives' house gets out of hand, but instead of dying that day, he awakes in Asgard.Happy for his new chance, he tries to lay low, but as always in his life, things do not go as planned and soon he draws the attention of a certain Jötun sorcerer.Loki has tried to save his realm for millennia, but with his adoptive father Odin Allfather refusing to give him the Casket of Ancient Winters, he grows desperate as he watches his land and people die. And his own magic is far too destructive and violent to save the land. What he needs is a source of creative magical power.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hallo everyone!
> 
> I was quite inactive lately as I had been very busy with my studies. Also, my beloved Beta, the great Jayson Levinson is moving to a new town and I am unable to reach him right now. That in addition with a bad case of depression had let to me not writing in weeks. I feel so bbad about it, but many of my works-in-progress were planned together with Jayson and I feel unable to continue without him at the moment. We planned them together and in my mind are so many questions I want to ask him but can't.
> 
> However, three days ago I red the brilliant fan fiction The Tale of the Odinson and the Frost Giant by LokiBitch07 and it inspired this crossover. 
> 
> I hope you all will like it and support me, because I really need some cookies right now to get me going again. 
> 
> Your JunjouSlashGirl

Prologue:

 

“Agreeing?” Loki chuckled lowly, a wicked, evil grin stretching his thin lips. “When you are not even ready to give me the Casket of Ancient Winters? What you propose is no peace treaty! It is drudgery!”

“Loki, my son,” Odin said, his voice deep and calm, but there was a hint of strain when one listened closely enough.

Loki just sneered. “Do not call me your son! You have no right!”

“I have no right?” bellowed Odin. “I took you in. I raised and loved you as my own!”

“You took me in for nothing but your political gain! Like those peace hostages, you so like to claim!” Loki shouted back, making Odin sigh.  
“If that were the case, Loki, I would have sent you to the quarters of the peace hostages and not raised you within my family. Do you truly believe I took you only in for my political gain? I was still young! Still new as king! Still new as a father! But I took you in, raising two toddlers simultaneously!”

 

Loki just sneered, refusing to listen to his so-called father. He was too angry, too desperate and he knew if he listened, the old, childish love he still held for his adoptive family would rise again and betray him when he had more important things to concentrate on. 

 

“And despite all your words, you refuse to give me the Casket of Ancient Winters! Instead, you pushed me into this attack! This betrayal!” He spat.

“I pushed you into nothing!” Oding stated, making him laugh. It was a cold, bitter sound, filled with no happiness.

“Did you not? For centuries, even millennia I tried to talk to you about the issue, but you refused to listen to reason!”

Odin shook his head. “You do not listen, son. I did listen to you, but I cannot give the casket to you!”

 

Snorting, Loki questioned: “And what, dear father, is the so important difference between those two things?”  
“That it is destroyed!” Odin roared suddenly. “I destroyed the casket in the mids of the battle before your birth father gave you to me!” The word echoed through the Throne Room like his brother’s mighty roll of thunder, leaving nothing but an oppressing silence. 

 

The marble floor beneath Loki’s feet seemed to crumble and let him fall into the baseless dark void of the universe. 

“Then you did not only betray me but also my birth father!” Loki whispered as the anger and desperation coiled like an angry snake in his stomach, making him shout: “He trusted you!”

 

Odin closed his eyes for a second that seemed to last an eternity and if Loki had not known better, he would have said that the great Allfather was wavering.

 

“I will not deny that my actions back then were not without mistakes. But Laufey was a desperate mother. He was desperate for your life. For your survival. It was wrong to not tell him the truth, but there is no doubt in my mind that he still would have entrusted you to me if he had known.”

 

“So you took me in that I could watch the extinction of my people? Not even giving me the respect of telling me about their fate?” Loki asked coldly, still falling.

 

“I…” Odin began anew, but then there was it again and this time, there was no mistaking it for what it was. Odin, his powerful father wavered and stumbled. Next to him Frigga gasped, grasping him for support and his brother Thor, who had been ordered to stay guard at the entrance portal, rushed forwards. 

 

But he wasn’t fast enough and neither was Loki as the ground suddenly returned beneath his feet and he sprinted forwards as Odin stumbled again, falling to the floor. 

 

“Guards!” Loki shouted loudly, not for the first time glad that his mind always stayed sharp and quick, regardless of the situation. “Sent for Eir! Quick!” he ordered as soon as the heavy portal was pushed open and the guards entered. 

 

For a split second their eyes rested on the crumpled form of the Allfather, but then they ran, years of following orders in the extremest of situations helping them to follow orders in the direst of situations. Their heavy boots echoed loudly on the marble floor as they vanished.

 

As he turned his attention back to his father, he saw that his mother had carefully cradled his head in her lap.

 

“He mentioned that he feared his second sleep was approaching. But we never thought… that it would befall him so soon,” she said weakly, stoking her dainty fingers through his dark golden hair. 

 

Loki did not know what to retort, his silver tongue leaving him for the first time in his life. He wasn’t even sure if he was allowed closer by their side. His brother seemed lost as he himself, was for the first time confronted with a situation he was not familiar with; a situation in which his strength and battle pralice were of no use. 

 

Fortunately soon the moment came to an end as a group of healers arrived.

 

“My Queen.”   
It was a respectful greeting as well as a question.

 

“It is the Odinsleep,” Frigga responded, her voice low but steady. “Bring him to his golden Chamber,” she ordered and waited for her husband to be lifted onto a stretcher, before rising as well. 

 

Loki watched from the distance how the man he considered a father was carried out of the throne room. He felt detached from the situation as well as his family. It was a feeling he was not unfamiliar with. With his long, straight horns, crimson eyes, dislike for the suns and love for shades and cool caves he had always felt as if he did not quite belong, despite the care and love he had received, even from Odin himself. 

 

But the last couple of centuries had cast a shadow over their familial bliss. Odin had always been a king first and a husband and father second. He was calculating and ruthless but in his youth, he had not been aware of the fact as much as he was today.

 

“Loki,” he heard his mother’s voice and looked up. Thor had already hurried after the healers, properly sitting by their father’s side and holding his hand as a proper and favoured son should.   
“Yes, mother?” He acknowledged her, his voice sounding hollow to his own ears. 

 

“Despite what you may think right now, you are our son. Do not stay away from him. You father can still hear and see in his sleep.”

 

He inclined his head. “I thank thee, mother,” he retorted politely, despite knowing that he would not do so.

 

Chapter 1:

Harry groaned as his mind came back to awareness. His whole body hurt. So much so, that for a moment it made him unable to remember what had happened. But then images of meaty fists, of heavy booted feet, blood, and pain flooded his mind and he wished he had forgotten after all. 

 

His uncle's kicks had been more violent and relentlessly than ever before. He could remember a ripping pain in his chest and for a moment he had been convinced that he was about to die. What a joke that would have been; killed by his uncle. Killed by a mere muggle

 

Not that he would have been overly sad with how horrible his life had become. 

It all really had started after the horrible end of his fourth year. He could understand the necessity of him learning Occlumancy, but Snape had been a horrible choice. Sometimes after the sessions, especially when a painful vision had followed, he had felt himself slip into madness. To this day he found it rather miraculous that he had not gone completely insane yet.

On top of that, the Ministry had sent him Umbridge who had blessed him with yet another scar that would never vanish. 

And last but not least, there had been the incident during his xxx class, Animagus training. It had been during his very first lesson with his Head of House when they had noticed that he had quite the special gift.

 

A shapeshifter. A wizard, who was even rarer than a metamorphmagus. Someone, who could not only turn into any human, animal, creature and being alike, change their appearance and gender but also his final form.

 

Upon birth, every shapeshifter was born as son or daughter to their parents, looking like a normal child would. Many of them stayed in this form, choosing it as their final one, but others chose to turn into something entirely different for a friend, a lover or sometimes even a career purpose. 

 

All in all, Harry had thought, he could have had a much more freakish inheritance, seeing what kind of creatures roamed the wizarding world. That was until Dumbledore thought to use him to bind the alliance of the vampires to the light side, by giving Harry to their Lord as a mate.

 

Harry had not wanted to become a blood craving, undead person and neither had he liked the idea to be married off to someone he did not know and was likely to not like as well, considering the nature of vampires.

 

Fortunately, this discovery had only happened rather late in the school year and with Umbridge and Dumbledore’s flight from Hogwarts, nothing had happened yet. 

 

However, Harry was sure that the manipulative, old headmaster would not leave it be. So much he had realized after the end of his fifth year; Dumbledore was not the wise and kind grandfather he liked to present himself as. 

 

No, the man was cunning and manipulative like a Slytherin and did not shy away from using the people in his surrounding to achieve his goals. 

 

Though right now things were still very chaotic in the wizarding world, so Harry was sure he would yet have some time until he needed to come up with a plan to avoid the cruel addition to his fate Dumbledore had forged. 

 

And that Dumbledore would try everything in his power to marry him off to the Vampire Lord, he did not doubt.

 

Only the question was, what could he do while locked in at the Dursleys’ house with no way to contact his friends? Or his… A pang of sorrow went through his heart as he remembered that his godfather was no more. And that as well was Dumbledore’s fault. 

 

But dwelling in the pst would not help him right now. He could morn Sirius later, he knew his godfather, wherever he was right now, would understand. He would even support him in his decision to first make a plan to get himself out of this mess and then morn. But what to do? He had set Hedwig free at Kings Cross so that his family could not starve her as well and even if she was there, his windows were barred again. 

 

But maybe she was close and watching him. Maybe he should try to write a letter and place it somewhere outside, in hopes that she would find it? Hedwig was an unusual bird after all. 

However, to do so he would have to get up and on with his day. The thought alone made gag as his head still pulsed violently. Still, he braced himself and finally opened his eyes. Only to immediately shut them again as bright light assaulted them as if the sun was directly shining down on him. 

 

Groaning, he let his right arm fall over his face to shield his sensitive eyes. He must have suffered a concussion, otherwise, he couldn’t explain this oversensitivity while lying in his dingy room. 

 

He blinked carefully so that his eyes could slowly accustomed to the brightness. Once they finally had done so, he tiredly let his arm drop to the side again, only to gasp in shock. Wherever he was, it was not his bedroom. 

 

A bright blue sky stretched above him and (he rubbed at his eyes, not quite trusting them) multiple suns. A surge of panic went through him and he sat up quickly. The motion made him feel dizzy, however, as quick as both sensations had come, they had disappeared again. 

 

For a moment he wondered why he suddenly felt calm again, but as his head stopped spinning and he could take his surrounding further in, it came to him. 

 

Whoever had brought him to this place, could not possibly one of the Death Eaters. He was unbound and unrestrained. The grass he was lying on was sick and soft and of the brightest green, he had ever seen.

 

He seemed to be in some sort of courtyard as the high marble pillars of a gigantic building rose around him. Looking around further, he could see a small pond nearby, a bench and a beautiful, mosaic pathway.

 

Low chatting reached his ears from somewhere and all in all the atmosphere was calm. Peaceful, even. 

 

For a moment he just sat there, wondering what he was supposed to do and how he had even gotten to this strange place. Had he maybe died after all and was in heaven? Was this how the world behind the vale looked like?

 

Looking down on himself, he noticed that, while his body still ached, that there were no visible injuries. No bruises, no slashes from his uncle’s belt. 

 

Suddenly the sound of heavy footsteps echoed through the courtyard and as he turned his head, he saw two man walk by beneath the roofed pathway beneath the pillars.

 

Harry’s eyes widened as they came closer and he could truly see them. They were tall, muscled men to the point of being bulky. They wore a strange, silvery armor and the sides of their helmets were formed like feathers. In their hand they held spears and heavy swords hung on their belts. 

 

Fortunately, they hadn’t noticed him yet, absorbed in their conversation as they were and also, this proved it, he had not been captured by Voldemort. He watched as they slowly went out of sighed and chewed nervously on his bottom lip. 

 

He knew it probably was a foolish idea to run after them, but he had to find out where exactly he was, if he was truly dead or if he could return to his friends. The thought of his friends sent another jolt of pain through his chest. What if he truly had died? While not really sorry for the fate that would befall Dumbledore, he wasn’t quite sure how he felt about his friends. 

 

Ron and Hermione had been by his side for so long, but especially Ron had also shown him a dark, obvious side and treated him unfairly. And even if he could forget about that, was it truly right that they expected him to save their hides? He had tried often in the past year to made them see that the wizarding world was wrong to place all their hopes onto his shoulders. He was only a teenage boy after all. 

 

Even if it turned out to be true that only he could defeat Voldemort in the end, that didn’t mean that they couldn’t at least try to weaken the wizard and his alleys.

 

Shaking his head, he pushed the question out of his mind for now. These questions were unimportant for as long as he didn’t know what had happened to him. Therefore he made up his mind, pushed to his feet, waited a moment until the spinning and pounding of his head had retreated once more and then began to search for the two guards he had seen earlier.

 

Once he stepped into the shade beneath the marble building, he saw their brown capes vanish behind the next corner. 

Gathering all his Gryffindor courage he cleared his head and called out to them: “Excuse me!”  
Their steps halted, only to start anew and a second later they came back into view.  
“Yes, what…” one of them started politely, but then his hard, brown eyes landed on him and Harry realized that this had been a stupid idea. 

 

“Who are you?” The other guard asked harshly and both of them quickened their steps, moving their speers to point straight at him. 

 

“I…” Harry began, lifting his hands in the universal sign of peace and took a step back. However, either those two didn’t know the gesture or didn’t care for it, because they grabbed his arm harshly and scrutinized him. He winced as his arm was squeezed and most likely bruised beneath their strong grasp.

 

“You are no Aesir!” The first one accused him.   
“No, I am not. I am…” Harry began, not knowing what or who Aesirs were, but the second guard cut him off.   
“Intruders are not welcomed here.”  
“I am not…” he tried again, but the first guard gave him a harsh shuff. “Move. Odin Allfather will decide upon your fate,” he declared and Harry paled. 

 

Odin Allfather? Like the Nordic ruler over all the gods of the universe? He dearly hoped that he had misunderstood. However, he wasn’t given the chance to ask any question as the two guards marched him further into the great building, past beautifully sculptured pillars and archways, over long stretching bridges and through high, lacquered doors. 

He saw more guards than he could possibly count and they certainly were not all human. However, before he could take a closer look at them, they stopped in front of a gigantic portal that was flanked by six guards, three at each side. 

 

“We need to speak to the Allfather!” the guard on his left announced to his comrades. One of them gave a stiff nod and the one closest to the door brought something like a thick, golden and heavily ornamented staff loudly down to the floor. The sound echoed through the hallway and a moment later the portal began to swing open.

 

Harry gulped as he saw the first glances of the hall that was revealed. The ceiling seemed to be so high, that he couldn’t see its roof from where he stood. Golden swirls were embedded into the white marble on the floor, reminding him of Celtic knots.

Then one of his guards pushed him forwards, forcing him further into the room. 

It was impossible to not immediately notice the two tall figures, sitting reagle on two thrones, one smaller, the other bigger. Their golden blond hair, warmer and more shining than that of the Malfoys, reflected the bright sunlight that streamed through the high, arched windows. 

 

The woman, although smaller and much more delicate than the man, seemed just as imposing with her elegant, golden dress and the long hair that spilled down the side of the throne. 

 

“Odin Allfather, we found this spy in one of the inner courtyards,” one of the guards spoke, both of them bowing respectfully, their weapon never wavering away from him. 

 

“A spy, you ay?” the man on the throne retorted and Harry flinched as he turned his head to face him, revealing a harsh locking, metal patch over one eye, while the other one gazed at him with a hardness Harry had never felt before.

 

“Tell me boy, which realm was foolish enough to send a child into the mits of my palace? Did your king think that I would spare his servant if he had not grown into his armor yet?”

 

For a moment Harry was unable to do anything but to stare at the Allfather, hoping that he would just wake up from this crazy dream and find himself in his little room in private drive. The aura of the king in front of him was so intense, that it seemed to crush him.

 

“Answer, boy!” the Allfather bellowed, making him jerk from his paralyzed state.   
Finding something the Gryffindor inside of him he had thought lost only a moment ago, he straightened. “I am no spy!” He had dealt with enough madmen, he would not cower in front of one who was certainly strong, but at least sane enough to speak to. 

 

“Where you are from, I asked you!” the Allfather repeated, his voice gaining a threatening undertone. 

Deciding that it could only help his case to answer that question for the king first, he said loudly: “I am from Surrey in Britain.”

 

The Allfather frowned. “I have never heard of the realm you proclaim to be from.”

Frowning as well, Harry shook his head, at least the Allfather sounded slightly calmer now. “Britain… or England... is the country. The planet,” he hesitated, hoping that he was guessing correctly what the Allfather wanted to hear “is the Earth.”

 

“Ah, Midgard,” Odin hummed, seeming deep in thoughts for a moment.   
Harry didn’t dare to move or speak, having the feeling that his fate was decided upon, however, when the Allfather looked calculatingly up again, he was asked another question.

“I was not aware that Midgard’s technology had advanced enough to find us. However, if they were aiming for a civil peace or trade agreement, an official request per letter or messenger would have been the right approach. So tell me, what is your mission hear? Are you to find out how strong we are? How many men we possess? Steal our weapons? Or something even more sinister?”

Harry paled at the Allfather’s words. Where in Merlin’s name did those people even get the idea from that he was a spy? Or here to do such horrible things? Did criminals in this real usually look like scrawny, underfed schoolboys? 

However, Odin spoke again. “I will tell you now that my sons and heirs are all strong warriors. An attempt to abduct them will bear no fruits.”

 

Shaking his head again, he repeated: “I am really no spy. I am not interested in weapons or fighting!”   
It was the truth. The war in the wizarding world had just barely begun and he already had enough of it. What would he want with starting a war in another universe? With a god nonetheless. 

 

“Is that so?” Odin questioned, his voice cold and rose from his throne.   
Harry stiffened as he saw how tall the man exactly was. He had always thought that Ron was tall, with his 6.0, but the Allfather had to be at least 6.6 feet tall.

To his horror, the god began to walk down the steps, his heavy booted feet and the golden sceptre echoing on the floor. 

 

“Then tell me why, Midgardian, have my guards found you in the heart of my palace? If not on behalf of your ruler, how did you get to Asgard then? You did not arrive with the Bifrost, for he is not open currently.”

 

“I… I don’t know!” he exclaimed, craning his neck to look into the god’s eye, but his stare was so intense that Harry had to lower his gaze a second later, unable to stand it. 

“Impudence!” Odin shouted, bringing his sceptre heavily down in front of him. It send a shockwave of energy through Harry’s body, that made the pain in his head flare up harshly.

 

“Do you think me a fool? No one enters my palace without a reason, especially not secretly! I have ruled the nine realms for more millennia than you can possibly imagine! I know every lie and every trick! Do not try to fool me or you and your Midgard shall pay dearly for your insolence!” 

 

“I am… not… lying!” Harry forced out between gasps of pain and dizziness. 

“Allfather!” he suddenly heard a soft, but equally commanding voice.   
“Frigga,” he heard the Allfather’s voice, but it seemed to come from far away. It sounded softer, gentle even.

 

“Please retain yourself, my husband,” the woman spoke again. “He is but a child.”

 

Soft steps sounded and a moment later a warm hand fell onto his shoulder.   
“He is ill and bleeding. Whatever fate has brought him to us, I believe it is no wickedness.”   
Suddenly a gentle energy seemed to flood through him and the pain in his head and limbs subsided. A white, delicately embroidered handkerchief was pressed into his hand and he realized, that his nose had been bleeding. 

 

Wiping the mess away, he looked up and directly into gentle, brown eyes of the reagal queen. She smiled at him softly, understandingly and directed him over to the steps of the platform where the thrones stood. To his surprise, she set him down and then took the seat next to him. 

 

“Now, child, I am Queen Frigga. Would you tell me your name?” she asked softly, her warm voice calming something deep inside of Harry.  
“My name is Harry.”

 

The queen gave him another smile and nodded. “Welcome to Asgard, Harry. Can you remember the last thing that has happened before you arrived here?”

 

Harry pondered the question for a moment. He didn’t know how he had gotten to Asgard and didn’t wish to go into too much detail about the beating he could remember. But thinking about all what had happened today and how he felt, he could say at least one thing: “I think I died.”

 

A sad expression entered Queen Frigga’s eyes. However, she did not pity him and that made Harry like her all the more. “And then you awoke in our garden?”  
“Yes.”

Frigga was silent for a moment and just as with Odin, Harry didn’t dare to speak up. Finally, she rose and turned to her husband who stood silently watching to the side,

 

“Allfather,” she began respectfully. “I would propose to consult the Norns.”

 

Odin’s single eye wandered over to him, examining him for a minute, before he gave a single nod, before turning to the guards that had brought him here.   
“The Midgardian shall be placed into a room and given food and drink. He is not to leave this room until you hear word from me and he is to be guarded day and night!” The Allfather brought his sceptre down. 

 

The guards straightened even further if that was possible and then motioned for Harry to follow them.

 

The walk that followed was long and silent once more, but at least this times, his guards didn’t emit an aura of anger. They let him deep into the bowls of the castle. Still, regardless of how far away they went away from the throne room, the splendor around him did not lessen. 

 

Finally, his guards turned into a dead-end corridor that was lined with comparingly simple doors. The only remarkable thing about them was the golden door handles. 

 

The guard on his right pushed the nearest door open and gestured for him to enter. Apparently, talking was not his strong suit.  
As soon as he had done so, he heard the door fall shut behind him, however, he didn’t care about it at the moment, relieved that he had made it out of the throne room in one piece. 

 

Meeting Odin and Frigga had been wonderous and frightening at the same time and left him slightly shaken. He had always told people that there were more frightening things than a mad dark lord and had always believed it, but the meeting had taught hem the true meaning behind his own words.  
Trying to distract himself from the uncomfortable feelings, he finally took the room in. It wasn’t big, but nicely furnished and certainly more than he could have expected from the death eaters or even the Ministry at the moment.

 

The furniture was made from light wood. There was a bed in one corner, a small sofa, an armchair, and a low coffee table. A window looked down into another garden and a bookshelf stood next to it. It was mostly empty, holding only one single tomb.

 

Right now it didn’t matter to him, however, as he had much to think about and was dead tired. Hesitating only a moment, he walked over to the comfortable looking bed, cickt his trainers off and lay down. 

 

He could think about what his new situation meant once he was rested. Right now he couldn’t do anything anyway and he was too exhausted to think about it reasonably as well.

 

Sleep claimed him almost immediately with how tired he was and the softness of the pillow beneath his head.

 

XXX

 

When Harry woke next, he couldn’t say how long he had slept or how late it was. The suns in the sky seemed to have sunken quite a bit, but he still felt exhausted. Awake enough, however, to finally address somethings. 

 

Turning onto his back, he sighed and stared at the ceiling. His thoughts immediately wandered back home, to Ron and Hermione and his unwanted duty. He knew, right now he had no possibility to do anything at all, but he also knew that he should try to return to the Earth and Britain as soon as possible. If it was possible. If he wasn’t truly dead. 

 

However, if he was honest with himself, he also knew that he didn’t truly wish to return, for there was no one anymore he wanted to safe. it wasn’t even really about his friends. They had disappointed him, sure, but they also were all still young and allowed to make mistakes and all in all, in the end, they had always stood by his side. No, blaming them, would not be right. 

 

No, it was about the situation in general. He had been unhappy for so long. Had hurt and suffered for so long. And this was his chance to get away from all of it. To live his own life for the first time since his parents had died, to find out what he truly wanted to do and who he truly was. 

 

Of course, in the end, it all would depend on the Allfather and his good will. If the god could not be convinced that he was no enemy, his fate would be sealed for sure. But right now, at this moment, he felt calm about the matter. 

 

And even if he wanted to, he doubted very much that Odin would let him return to the earth after what he had all seen today, even though it had not been something truly important.

 

But could he truly do that? Just stay in Asgard and say nothing? Zell nobody about his past life and past destiny and start anew? 

 

Sadly, coming to a decision wasn’t hard at all. Not with what Dumbledore had planned for him and with his godfather dead. Sure, he probaböy would have to give up magic, the one thing he had always liked about his life, but then again, it had also been the reason why his life had been as bad as it had been. Maybe it would even be a relief to leave his powers behind. And for the rest, he would just have to wait and see how things would develop. However, it felt better to face these things with a clear and made up mind. At least he knew what he wanted to get out of this newest adventure. 

 

By now the light in his room had dimmed quite a bit and he turned onto his side and closed his eyes again. 

 

For the first time in about two years, his mind felt finally completely calm again and he easily drifted off again. 

 

TBC

 

 

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good evening :-)
> 
> I am not quite satisfied with this chapter, but I really wanted to get it out to you as I have been staring at it for three days now. I feel that something is still missing, but I can't find it. So at some point, I might update it a little. But for now I think it will work.
> 
> And to all who wrote my a review: Thank you so much. It really made my day and helped me a lot. As a fellow author wrote: reviews are cookies and love :-*
> 
> Hope you all like it,  
> JSG

Chapter 2:

Harry was awoken the next morning by a soft knock. Groggily, he sat up and rubbed his eyes shortly, before he turned to the door and called “Enter!”

A young, small girl with huge, almond shaped brown eyes and honey brown hair entered, carrying a wooden tray.

“I bring your breakfast,” she said with a friendly smile and walked over to his coffee table, where she proceeded to place the tray down before leaving again. 

 

He needed a moment to fully wake up and progress where exactly he was, but the memories of the previous day returned quickly and he climbed out of bed. 

His breakfast consisted of four thick slices of bread, two equally sick slices of bacon and two slices of some sort of strong smelling cheese. There also was a pitcher of water and a goblet of what had to be some sort of juice. Apple, maybe, because it was of a light golden color. 

 

Realizing how thirsty he was, he picked the goblet up and tuck a huge sip, only to splutter and caught in surprise. Whatever this beverage was, it was clearly alcoholic. But what nation drank alcohol in the morning?

 

Placing the drink back down apprehensively, he reached instead for the water. 

 

When he had drunk and eaten his fill, he looked around for a moment, uncertain of what to do next. There wasn’t exactly much he could do, so he simply stood up and walked over to the window, hoping that it would provide him with a better look upon the world he had landed in. He was lucky. 

 

Beneath him, the whole realm seemed to be stretched out. The palace had to be situated on a plateau. The city beneath seemed rather futuristic with its golden buildings. However, far in the distance, he could also make out the outlines of rather antique looking buildings, which lost itself in the wide stretches of soft meadows and rolling hills and even further away, something that looked like the beginning of a great ocean. 

 

He relished in the view a moment longer, but then grew quickly board. He wasn’t really used to doing nothing. Which didn’t mean that he couldn’t enjoy a calm exercise like reading a good book, but staring out of the window just wasn’t enough for him. He had been staring out of a window for too many summers.

 

But thinking about books, he remembered the one he had seen yesterday in the otherwise empty bookshelf.

Retrieving it, he sat down on the small couch which was just as comfortable as his bed had been and looked at the title.

 

 

“The Nine Realms by Snorri Sturluson”.

 

Thinking that it might be wise if he read up a bit on the place he would most likely call home from now on, he opened the book and skipped to the introduction. 

“There are nine known realms in our cosmos. It is held together by the mighty ash tree Yggdrasil, who connects all realms and provides a stabilizing factor.

The nine realms, which are Asgard, Vanaheimr, Jötunheimr, Niflheimr, Muspelheimr, Alfheimr, Svartalfheimr, Midgard and Helheimr each house a different species and are very distinguishable.

 

Asgard and Vanaheimr are often perceived as the most important and strongest realms in our cosmos as they are the homes and fortress of the god tribes, the Aesir and the Vanir.

The Aesirian tribe brought forth Odin Allfather, ruler and Protector of the Nine Realms. 

Jötunheimr or Utgardr is the home realm of the giants. While today only the Frost giants roam the realm, there had been a second species of giants for many millennia.   
The wind giants were the counterpart to their brothers. While the Frost Giants are said to control the ice and winter, the Wind Giants controlled the winds that chased the deadly coldness away so that their land could recuperate and grow fertile once more. 

Other sources imply that this task was not merely restricted to the wind clan, but rather an ability of the Skapa, who are a small and fertile subspecies within the giant society.

 

Nifelheimr (Land of Fog and Darkness) and Muspelheimr (Land of Fire and Heat) in contrast are two realms whos balance does not lie within themselves but within each other 

 

Alfheimr is the land of light and beauty and the home of the Elves who are great masters of the art. They are in constant contrast with the dwarfs of Svartalfheimr, who in the ancient times were called the ‘Dark Elves’. 

Their strength lies in the forging arts and they are the main providers for weaponry throughout the cosmos. Their land is marked by high and wide stretching mountain chains with only a few dales and meadows in between.

 

Helheimr is the home of the dead. It has no ruler inlays in a constant state of chaos which leads to much despair within the realm. 

Therefore, many beings strive for an honorable death as a warrior, so that they may be permitted to enter Valhalla, a secondary realm which was created by Odin Allfather to house, provide and shelter the worthy.”

 

Frowning down onto the last paragraph, Harry wondered why someone should make such distinctions between the dead.   
He didn’t like the Christian approach, but separating the dead by good and evil seemed at least more logical than what Odin had created. And if one was to ask him, he would tell them that it wasn’t that easy to tell good from bad apart either. Did not every being deserve to meet their loved ones one day in the afterlife?

 

However, he was just a mere mortal, new to this world and without any real knowledge or understanding. 

 

Sighing, he closed the book and placed it next to his breakfast tray. He had learned enough for the moment. 

 

Letting himself fall back onto his back, he tried to think about something else, but something about Hel and Valhalla had ruffled him the wrong way. It reminded him too much of Dumbledore who proclaimed to act for the Greater Good and seemed to think that it would justify every unhanded and amoral method. 

 

It made him angry that apparently, even gods were not different from simple humans in that aspect. 

 

Fortunately, his brooding came to an abrupt end by a harsh knock.   
Sitting up, he once again called for whoever it was to enter and watched as an unfamiliar guard stepped into his room. 

“Midgardson, the Allfather is sending for you.”

 

A heavy weight suddenly dropped into Harry’s stomach and he gulped. Somehow, he hadn’t expected that the Allfather would reach a decision so soon. It made all previous calmness inside of him disappear.

 

Shaking slightly, he rose to his feet and gave the guard a nod. He followed the huge man outside, where they were joined by a scary looking woman. Her hair was dark brown and braided into two braids that began at her temples. She wore something like a short tunic with a heavy breastplate and high boots and her arms and legs were almost as strong looking as those of her comrade. 

 

She said nothing as she followed him like a gigantic, guarding shadow.

 

The trackback to the throne room didn’t seem any shorter than the last time, however, this time he did not gaze at the splendor around him.   
The great portal stood wide open as they arrived and the guards motioned for him to enter and kneel directly in front of the plateau. 

 

He was relieved when he saw Frigga sitting once again in her throne, a soft smile on her lips and he hoped that this was a good sign. Odin however, looked stern as ever and he quickly lowered his head in respect, not knowing if he should greed the Allfather or just wait until he was addressed. 

 

He heard the portal fall close behind him and luckily, Odin spoke then. 

 

“Rise, Harry Midgardson, for you have spoken the truth.”

 

Harry felt dizzy with the sudden fall of the weight from his shoulders but quickly did as told. The relieve was so profound, that he swayed slightly.

 

“My wife has spoken to the Norns and while they have not revealed much, it seems that your arrival in Asgard was not without reason.”

 

Harry had no idea who the norns were and made a mental note to read up on them. They had to be important when even the Allfather listened to their word.

“They say,” Odin continued and he quickly listened again “that your tapestry is of greatness and wide-ranging connected.

 

“Thank you, Odin Allfather,” he said, not letting it show that those words confused him even more than the previous ones.

 

A slight frown washed over the god’s face, but it fortunately quickly vanished and the Allfather continued: “The question remains, however, how to treat you now. You are neither a prisoner nor of noble blood. You are a Midgardian, a realm with which we have no active contact with at the moment, as their citizen had lost the connection to our realm. Fortunately, my Queen is a wise woman and she proposed to move you into the quarters of the peace hostages. Do you know what a peace hostage is?”

 

“No, sir,” Harry shook his head, but when he heard a threatening his from the woman behind him, he quickly corrected himself “I mean… Allfather.”

 

Odin nodded. “A peace hostage is usual of royal or noble blood. Sometimes they are sent to us by realms with which we are on friendly terms and sometimes, we demand them from a warring nation who has lost against us, to ensure future peace.

They gain partial citizenship of Asgard and are schooled in our Academy so that they may become ambassadors for our realms in the future. However, as this kingdom provides for schooling, it is not without pressure. I expect good results.”

 

“Yes, your Majesty. Thank you,” Harry bowed his head.

 

“Then the guards will bring you to your new room. You may walk freely now and view Asgard as your new home,” the Allfather dismissed him.   
As he raised his head, he saw Frigga smiling encouragingly at him and somehow, that look was enough to fill him once again with new hope and strength. He had gotten it, his new chance.

 

XXX

 

Loki slammed the old tumb in front of him shut with an angry roar.

It had been over a year since his argument with his father and his fall into the Odinsleep. The sleep itself had not lasted overly long, but it was its implication that was from immense importance for all realms because once the Allfather would fall into his third sleep, he would not wake up again and the age of the Allfather would come to its end.

 

It, of course, did not imply the end of their cosmos. no, kings and queens had always come and gone and it was not Ragnarök.

 

The month since then he had spent first with the desperate search for the Casket of Ancient Winters, using the time the castle had been distracted during his father’s sleep. He had searched for seven weeks, combed through every room, hall, and chamber in the castle and found nothing. 

 

Of course, he should have expected as much, Odin was not one to lie openly when asked or confronted as directly as he had done. However, his mind had been shrouded by darkness for quite some time, leaving him unable to form a rational thought. 

 

Once he had returned to a sane state of mind, he had delved into the vast libraries of their realm, researching creating and protective magics from all known realms. Of course, no realm was as adept at magic as Jötunheimr, but he still had read every single book he had come across and practiced many mentioned methods and spells.

 

He had tried old dwarvish chants, elvish light circles, and even meditation to form his magic into something peaceful and creative, but a fish would never be a bird. 

 

Still, he tried and still his search bore no fruits. 

 

Sending the useless tumb back to its shelf with a spark of his magic, he rose to his feet and left the royal library and slipped into the shadows as he made his way back to his rooms, not in the mood to meet anyone, not even the guards that patrolled the castle at this hour of night. 

 

He could of course just have teleported himself directly into his quarters, but he liked the palace at night. With his long strides, it did not take him long to reach his destination anyway. He inhaled deeply as he entered the remote corridor that held his rooms, taking in the cold air and smell of nearing snow. 

 

Instantly his unpleasantly heated body relaxed as he entered his antechamber and crossed the reception room. He relaxed even further as he finally reached his private living room, pulled off his boots and pressed his feed against the freezing stone floor.

 

However, his rooms did not have the effect they had on him a few years ago. He still could remember times when all stress had fallen from his shoulders once he stepped into his little piece of Jötunheimr. But not anymore. Not since he had begun to realize just how hopeless the situation of his realm and his kin was.

 

He hung his leather cape over the chest that stood at the end of the bed, before walking over to a small jewelry box that stood unobtrusively between his books in his bookshelf, opening it. 

 

As ornamented the chest was, it merely held a small scroll that had grown yellow with age, its edges lacerated. The scroll had been made of sturdy leather, a technique unknown to the Aesir, and it was his most prized possession.

 

The text upon it, written in angular runes, did not hold any secrets of the universe or any powerful spells. Instead, it was an old Jötun’ fairytale, one, every Jötun child had once known. It had been his favorite story as a youngling, back, when he still had lived with his birth father and the only thing he had brought over from Jötunheimr to Asgard so many years ago. 

 

He rarely read the story nowadays, but he needed its comfort tonight. 

 

Scooting down on his bed and inclining against the headboard, he started to read the story about the White Jötnar. It was a prophecy as much as it had become a fairytale for children, telling of a Skapa that would save their world from extinction and bear a litter that would become the pillars of a new Jötnar society. 

 

It was a simple and beautiful idea, that a Jönar would suddenly appear out of nowhere, just when he was needed the most, and save his world. Unfortunately, it was just as unlikely. First, there were no white Jötun and secondly, the only Jötun that could still save his world was a Skapa, a submissive and his father, Farbauti, had killed every single one of them.

 

Still, the tale managed to calm his desperate heart and as he had read the last word, he felt as if he might find sleep after all. 

 

XXX

Harry closed his new bedroom door close behind him. Well, the bedroom door wasn’t exactly the right word. He had more space now. His new quarters consisted of a living room, a bathroom with loo but without a shower or tub and a bedroom with a desk beneath the window where he would be able to do his homework. 

 

The rooms were not the biggest, but they were beautiful and his own. It would need some getting used to having to go to the public baths for washing, but he would get used to it. Just as he hopefully would quickly get used to his new subjects. 

 

It had been a bit of a surprise when a tall, muscled woman had knocked on his door this morning and announced herself to be xxx, instructor for armed fighting and apparently something like the deputy headmistress of the Asgardian Academy.

 

Sigrid had the deepest voice he had ever heard from a woman, wore something like a far too short tunic, a heavy looking, and bracers on her arms and chins. She was clearly just as human as the dwarfs that lived a few rooms further down his own and he had made a mental note to read up on the beings that populated Asgard. 

 

She had informed him that he was to join the beginners class this morning and had given him instructions how to find the Academy as well as the right room and handed him something like a students starter pack. 

So now, with an old fashioned looking, leather-bound notebook and something like a thick piece of charcoal in hand, he was on his way to his very first school day in Asgard. He was far too early properly, but Siegrid had kind of freaked the hell out of him and he didn’t want to risk being too late. That was actually a woman who could make his former head of house pale in shame. 

 

Repeating the instructions in his head, he walked down the still fairly dark corridor until he came to the first bigger hall. There he turned into the hallway to his right and followed it until it opened up to a gigantic courtyard. 

 

Many paths separated from here, leading to other building. He headed for the big one to his left and was glad that he had found the school so easily. Now he only needed to find his classroom just as quickly. 

 

As he walked towards the building, he wondered how the classes would be. His knowledge from Hogwarts would certainly not help him much, if anything, than his experience in fighting off mad people that wished to kill him. 

 

Right now his time table consisted only of the basics; Armed Fighting and Sparring, Weapon Care and War Tactics as well as a class that taught the student about the history of their cosmos and the different Realms. 

However, he would also have to pick a few electives, but he had been given a week to decide which one he would like. There was Healing, Horse breeding, Smithery, Growing and Harvesting, Librarian, Runes, and Languages of the Realms and even Magic class, which apparently was called Seidr.

 

He wasn’t quite sure what he would choose yet but knew he wouldn’t sign up for the letter one. In the past, he had always loved magic and he wanted to find out if he could perform anything in this realm, but the art had brought him just as much sorrow as it had given him happiness, if not even more so. 

 

And if he ever needed a spell he didn’t know yet, he still had the book Sirius had gifted him during his fifth year, so he would have an easier time studying for his OWL. It was an amazing book and one of the rarest in the world. So rare in fact, that his godfather had made him swear to not tell anybody that he had it, not even his friends. 

 

On first sight, it consisted only of blank pages, but one only had to tell the book which topic they were looking for and the book would show him anything that had ever been written about it. 

 

It was not quite legal anymore, as it was immune to any copyright charms, however, it also was a very old and magical artifact, so it was kind of a grey zone. Or it would have been if he still had been of earth… or Midgard, how it was apparently called on Asgard. 

He had reached the Academy finally and concentrated back on his surrounding. He needed to find room 413, so he began to look around. 

The Academy was just as beautiful as all the other buildings he had seen of Asgard so far. It was built in the same mixture of futuristic and antique looking style he had already noticed in the palace. 

Not for the first time did he feel incredibly small as he walked through the high-stretching building. He would have wondered why someone thought it necessary to build such huge houses, but he had seen how tall the Allfather was and had seen even taller beings from afar. 

 

Guessing that room number 413 would be located somewhere on the 4th floor, he began to climb up the golden staircase until he reached the correct landing. He didn’t meet a soul as he checked the small xxx on the doors. He definitively was too early. Well, tomorrow he would know that the Academy actually wasn’t as far away as it had sounded. 

 

Spotting finally the room he was looking for, he pressed the handle down, checking if it was locked. It wasn’t. The classroom looked much more like one from a muggle school than those in Hogwarts had done. There were a simple blackboard and three rows of single tables. A few shelves with books and other items covered the walls.

 

Automatically, he walked over to a table, just as he had done in the past, but then remembered that maybe the students had a consistent seating arrangement and instead just leaned against a free patch of wall next to one of the huge windows. 

 

The next half an hour he spent with gazing outside and watching as more and more students arrived. When he heard footsteps draw closer, he turned around, just in time to see a small group of students arrive. Two dwarves, three elves and two teenage girls who reminded him strongly of the deputy headmistress. 

 

For a second they all stared at each other, but then one of the elves rushed forwards and hugged him “Welcome. You must be new.”  
Feeling a bit startled, Harry just nodded.   
“Freydis, let the poor boy go. Not everybody appreciates the way your people greet each other,” another elve scolded the girl. She looked slightly different, with light blond, almost white hair and an angular face, while her friend, had honey brown locks and a friendly, round face with rosy cheeks. 

“My apology,” Freydis flushed, embarrassment clear in her voice. However, she quickly caught herself and began to introduce the rest of the group: 

“These are Vigdis,” she motioned towards the elf that had recommended her just a second ago, before moving over to the elven girl with the black hair and gloomy look “and Ranveig.”  
“And we are,” one of the dwarves spoke up “Geir and Gisle.”  
“Nice to meet you. My name is Harry,” he introduced himself, stretching his hand out automatically. However, when it wasn’t taken in return, he quickly pulled it back.

“Is this custom in your realm?” Ranveig asked with a skeptical look at his hand.  
“Um… yes,” he retorted with a sheepish grin before quickly changing the topic: “So, do you all have specific seats in this room or can I just pick a chair?” 

 

“You can pick a chair, although, Geir and Gisle usually sit in the front, because their eyes do not work so well in the brightness of Asgard,” Freydis informed him, bouncing happily on her feet.

The dwarves grumbled at the comment but didn’t contradict the statement. 

“So, which realm...” Freydis began, but at that moment an old, once very tall but now hunched man appeared in the doorway and his new classmates quickly scurried to their seats, leaving only one place in the second row open, directly next to Freydis.

 

The man walked over to the Teacher’s desk in the front and Harry hurriedly sat down as well. For a moment silence rang in the classroom, but then the man looked up and two dark, alert orbs fixed on him.   
“You must be the new student. My name is Weapon Care Instructor Torstein. Welcome to the class…?” he ended his greeting with a questioning note and Harry quickly supplied:  
“Harry, sir.”

Torstein gave a gruff nod, before turning to the class and beginning his lecture.   
“Today we will discuss the pros and cons of different kinds of weapon oils and their composition.”

 

The next two hours Harry spent jotting down notes about different kinds of oil and trying to find anything even remotely interested in the topic. His lesson in Weapon Care was followed by a lesson of War Strategi, which could have interested him if it had been about capturing criminals like the Aurors did and not about slaughtering down some group of people.

 

War, in general, was something he found utterly useless, but he didn’t mention it as one look out of any window in Asgard told him very clearly what kind of people Asgardians were.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, please write me a review if you have time. It really motivates me a lot. After reading all the nice comments after my first posting, I immediately sat down and wrote this chapter :-)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Harry Potter or any of the Marvel characters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is chapter 3 :-)   
> It took me longer than expected, as I had a writer's block in the middle of it, but now I am fairly content with it.   
> Have fun.

Chapter 3:

“Which Realm are you from?”  
Blinking, Harry looked up and turned to Freydis.

 

They were all sitting in a rather small courtyard (for Asgardian standards at least) enjoying their lunch break. He was exhausted after his first two lessons. Not that the day had been overly long yet, but it was hard to be tossed into the middle of some lecture and have people expect that he knew what the Instructor was talking about.

 

“I am from the…” he began, but then corrected himself “from Midgard.”

Upon his words, Freydis suddenly looked shocked and Harry flinched as the girl made an involuntary step backward, while Ranveig and Vigdis gave him an appalled look. At least Gisle and Geir looked only uncomfortable.

 

“You are a mortal?” Vigdis question, the disgust still obvious in her huge, brown eyes.  
Shrugging, Harry nodded, even though he honestly wasn’t quite sure about that.  
“How did you come here? I thought Midgard and Asgard do not share any close relations anymore?” Ranveig inquired with a deep frown. 

 

Wondering if the two realms ever had shared any close relations, he answered her honestly: “I am not quite sure. I just woke up here after… er… something,” he trailed off lamely.   
His new friends all gave him a skeptical look, but the moment was interrupted as the sound of an old fashioned bell echoed through the courtyard. 

 

He frowned as the group turned as one and began to walk down a narrow path to an open field where a stout dwarf was already waiting for them. They gathered around him in a circle and the dwarf examined him through small, narrowed eyes for a moment, before saying:  
“Welcome to your first sparring lesson, Midgardson. I can see we have much work ahead.”

 

Harry head the feeling that he was eying his slender arms disapprovingly, but didn’t think that would help his case much that for Midgardian standards he was in fairly good shape. At least as a former seeker, he was not completely out of shape. His legs and arms were hard and muscled, even if it wasn’t the bulging type and his abdomen flat and nicely defined. 

 

He listened absentmindedly as the dwarf gave the group a few instructions, before he came over to him.   
“For the first couple of weeks I will instruct you personally until you have caught up with the class,” the dwarf told him gruffly and then proceeded to show Harry a row of different stances and grips to unbalance an opponent.

 

At the end of the two hours, Harry was exhausted and certain that he had more than one bruise from his instructor’s strong grip on his body. 

 

When the class finally ended, he watched his new friends leave, finding it slightly odd that they didn’t wait for him, but shrugged it off as he was too tired to go somewhere with them anywhere.

 

Feeling sore all over, he began the track back to his new room, the distance seeming far greater to him than it had earlier this morning. 

 

Once in his room, he passed the tray with bread and cheese some servant had left on his coffee table and directly went to the small water bowl in his room to wipe himself off. Apparently, the Asgardian ate their main meal in the evening, when everybody had returned from their duties and were in their rooms. It made sense in a land wear heating and stasis charms were not available. However, before he would eat anything, he would have to search for the public washing chambers. 

 

Gathering two fluffy, white towels, one big one and a smaller one, he left his rooms again and looked around. There was no sign hanging on the wall and announcing “Bathing Chambers to the left”, so he walked up to the next person he saw and just asked.

“Just go down to the next hall and take the second hallway to the right,” the guard answered somewhat gruffly but helpfully and after a quick “thanks” Harry took the path he had wandered already twice this day. 

 

He turned into the correct corridor and began to look around for any signs. They actually weren’t hard to miss ones he had spotted them. There was something like a steaming tub on the little, golden plate and a room next to it. The only problem was, that there were two signs with two different runes next to the engraved bathtub. Most likely telling him that one room was for women and the other for men, which didn’t help him much in his current predicament.

 

Therefore he waited and fortunately it didn’t take long. One of those tall women appeared, a towel and a piece of soap in hand and without sparing him a single glance, she walked past him and into the second room.

As soon as the door had closed, he entered the men’s section. He had made enough a fool out of himself for one afternoon. He was getting suspicious glances from the passing guards already. As if they suspected that he wanted to sneak inside the girls’ showers.

 

Ones inside, he found himself in something like a changing room. Low benches occupied the space in front of the walls and woven baskets had been placed on them at regular intervals. Some were clearly occupied with clothes and towels. 

 

Placing one of his own towels in an empty basket, he undressed, wrapped the other one around his hip and walked towards the closed door at the end of the changing room. He had expected to walk into a room full of showers and cubicles, maybe even a bathtub or two, but instead he only saw a couple of small, wooden footstools with small buckets next to each one of them.

 

For a moment he wondered what he was supposed to do, but then his gaze landed on a huge warrior that sat on one of those tiny stools and was currently lathering his muscular legs.

As unintrusive as possible, he watched for a moment longer, still not quite sure how washing in this world worked. After a while, the man took one of the buckets and began to rinse himself off, before standing up, wrapping a towel around his waist and walking through the next door. 

 

Well, at least now Harry knew what he had to do, even if it seemed a bit odd.   
He chose a footstool in a corner, feeling not quite comfortable with the idea that he was supposed to sit naked on a stool and wash while other men could walk in at any moment and watch him. He had always been rather self-conscious about his body.

 

Looking at the two buckets in front of him, he dipped his soap into one of them and quickly began lathering himself. The water was cold and he didn’t wish to stay in this room for long anyway. 

 

Shivering, he hurried as he spread the foam over his arms, chest, stomach, legs and finally his privates, which was about the worst part of washing this exposed. When he was finished, he braced himself and rinsed the foam, off, before quickly wrapping his towel around himself and making his way towards the door he had seen the warrior vanishing through. 

 

To his delight hot steam greeted him as soon as he stepped into the next room and not for the first time he thanked his friend Hermione who had taken the time to brew him the eye-correcting potion just before the holidays had started, or he would be blind as a bat right now. 

 

Through the thick fog, he could see four rectangular pools, which reminded him a lot of those depictions from antic roman bath houses. 

 

Men sat relaxing in small groups or on their own. Recognizing two of them, he walked over to one of the pools to his right and greeted them. However, when Gisle and Geir only mumbled something into their still rather short beards, he realized quickly that he wasn’t very welcomed and just walked passed them to the next pool.

 

The bathers all had kept their towels around their hips, even as they sat in the pools. So Asgardians knew some modesty after all.

 

Four steps led down into the how water and he sighed in bliss as he sank down onto a low bench that had been carved into the stone. Closing his eyes, he relaxed for a moment, but soon his mind began to wander.

 

Truth to be told, Geir’s and Gisle’s cold reaction had hurt him a little. He had gotten the impression that he had gotten on well enough with his new classmates, but apparently, he had missed something. 

 

Or maybe he was just overinterpreting things and the dwarves just wanted to spend some time together and reminiscing peace about their home country? 

 

Opening his eyes again, he saw that Gisle was looking over to him, but as soon as he realized that Harry was watching, he quickly turned around again. Somehow and not very surprisingly, it made him feel even more unwelcome and uncomfortable in the public bath. Suddenly wishing to get out of the public bath, he stood up and quickly left the water again. 

 

He muttered something like “see you tomorrow” as he passed his classmates, not wishing to seem rude and made his way back to the dressing room. Five minutes later he was dry and dressed again and on his way back to his quarters.

 

However once there, he didn’t know what to do next. He knew nobody he could visite and had no homework to do. Apparently, assignments were a concept the Asgardians had not yet heard about. Or at least none of his tutors had given them any. 

 

But that didn’t change the fact that he needed something to do, something to keep his mind busy. Feeling like a trapped animal, he looked around his small room. His gaze wandered aimlessly over his coffee table and sofa until it finally fixed on the window, which made him realize that he just needed to get out for a while and see something else than the high Marmor walls that stretched high into the sky wherever he looked.

 

He didn’t know Asgard or its palace yet, but maybe this was the right moment to go on a little expedition? He couldn’t possibly lose his way, not with how grand the palace was. Surely he would see it from whichever place his feet would carry him to.

 

Letting his bathing utensils fall carelessly onto his sofa, he turned on his heels and walked determinedly out of his room. He didn’t bother to find the front entrance, but rather took the route that led to the academy, where he had seen many paths let away from the palace and down into the city or just to the far-stretching gardens. 

 

While the gardens, from what he had seen so far, looked beautiful, he would take a look at them on a later date. For now, he needed to get further away.

 

He chose a path that seemed to lead straight away from the palace and into the town below. However, he had underestimated how far the way was. It took him at least half an hour to reach a pair of enormous, golden gates and stepped down from the white cobblestones onto plain ones. 

 

Just like in the public bath, a theme of ancient Rome seemed to determine the design of the city. There were a few long farmhouses with thatched roofs here and there, but mostly elegant, square buildings. 

 

All kinds of creatures inhabited the streets. He saw more dwarves, elves and beings he had never heard of before. The Äsir were easy to make out, they were the tall warriors and tall, but slender women.

 

He didn’t pick a certain direction as he wandered the broad and narrow streets and looked at the different market stalls, booth, and taverns. There was a lot of the latter, making Harry wonder of drinking was a common pass time here. 

He soon realized that the city had not been built around the palace, but rather stretched out in front of it. He found a wide marketplace at the very center and took his time looking at the offerings. 

 

There were a lot of things he knew, like carrots, potatoes, salmon and beef, but also many he didn’t. He saw dark green and lilac mushrooms that were soled by what had to be a dwarf lady. He could not imagine the women of any other raise having beards and combining those with a lot of gaudy jewelry and elaborate dresses.

 

A pair of elves sold some kind of pastries with honey-bees fillings and for a moment he was tempted to ask if the filling truly contained bees or just the honey. 

 

An hour into his expedition however, he realized that he needed to keep more to the shadowy area. With its multiple suns, Asgard had weather similar to a British summer. What worried him that most Äsir were dressed as if only the spring had just arrived and he wondered what he would have to deal with when the real summer came. At least he wouldn’t be forced to slave away in his aunt’s garden until his skin peeled from his flesh this time around. 

 

Another hour and he suddenly found himself at the edge of the town. Long and wide pebblestone path let away from the white marble buildings until they vanished between huge fields of crops, fruits, and vegetables. 

 

It took him only one step out of the city to feel an instant change. The hectic and noisiness of the town fell away from him and he exhaled a sigh of relief.

 

Looking up into the sky, he checked that the suns were still far away from setting, before deciding that he had enough time for a walk. 

 

The countryside seemed almost medieval. Farmhouses were rare and far in between. He saw carts and plows drawn by cattle, men, and women cutting grass and ears with scythes and children picking up the plants to tie them to bales. 

 

The long walk was almost as relaxing and liberating as riding a broom had always been. It was nice to see that this realm possessed a side besides weapons and war. The apples and pears that made the trees groan under their weight and the heavy smelling flowers gave Asgard something almost idyllic. 

He had walked for quite some time when he saw a beautiful cherry tree standing a bit to the side and all alone at the foot of a small hill. Feeling a bit tired, he made his way over and sat down in the soft grass. He probably should return to the palace soon, but this outing was just what he needed to settle his mind and soul after the eventful couple of days. And besides, there was nothing like a curfew for the students of the Academy. 

 

Leaning back against the thick tree trunk, he closed his eyes for a moment and simply let his mind wander. He hadn’t thought about his friends and the life he had left behind once since that very first day.

 

Somewhere deep inside he had expected to feel his saving-people-complex rise or his bad conscience, but it actually hadn’t happened. Instead, he felt relieved. Despite his unpleasant beginning in the academy, the feeling had slowly but surely spread through his whole body, loosening tensions and knots he hadn’t even been aware of.

 

Surprisingly, not even the ignorance of his classmates had hurt for as long as he would have imagined. It made him remember who he had been before the magical world had sent for him.

 

He had never liked attention much and rather enjoyed peace and quietness. He wanted to find this side of him once again and just live the uneventful life he had always yearned for. 

 

Maybe that even was the approach he needed to decide on his electives? What had stood on the list again? Healing, Horse breeding, Smithery, Growing and Harvesting, Librarian, Runes, and Languages of the Realms and Seidr, if he remembered correctly. 

 

Considering how little he still knew about his new home, he thought it best to pick the Librarian class, in hope that they would also read some books and not only discuss how the Asgardian library was organized, as well as Runes and Languages of the Realm. 

 

Healing sounded interesting as well, he had always wished to learn something helpful, something that was not only good to kill people but save them, however, four new subjects would probably stretch his capabilities. He wasn’t Hermione after all. 

 

Yes, it would be good to choose those classes and do something entirely different from the life he had left behind. Help him find out who he truly was. 

 

A sudden ruckus pulled him out of his thoughts and he looked up. For a moment he couldn’t see where the hubbub was coming from, but then a group of riders came dashing around the corner. 

Their horses’ hoofs hammered loudly on the path as they raced each other and Harry could only watch the tall man on their strong steeds in awe. 

 

The warrior ahead of the group was a blond giant. His golden hair glistened like liquid sunlight in the wind and he wore a purple cape. He remembered Harry strongly of depictions of Godric Gryffindor, with the long sword fastened to his belt. There even was an excited glimmer in those sky blue eyes that a former Gryffindor like him knew all too well. He had worn that same expression whenever he had raced after the snitch. 

 

He felt a smile tugging at the corner of his lips and realized, that it was the first time in many months that he remembered something positive form his years in the wizarding world. 

 

Still, somehow he felt more comfortable just watching the race unfold. The days in which he would have rushed to partake were over and he was at peace with it. 

 

He watched as the riders came to an hold next to a blackberry bush and clapped the winner on the shoulder. 

“Congratulations. Your steed is fit as ever, Thor!” one of them declared in an almost festive tone of voice, while the others nodded in agreement.

“A pity that your brother was busy, would have been nice to see you kick him from his high horse for a change.”

The blond chuckled and shook his head. “He was busy with his seidr. You know how Loki is.”

 

A bit surprised at the mentioning of magic, Harry instinctively perked up. He hadn’t heard much about the art besides that it existed in this realm and despite himself, he felt been drawn to the topic.

“Pansy Ergi,” one of the warriors scoffed. “No wonder that he has yet to lure a maiden into his bed.”

The other’s in the group nodded, but Harry saw that the blond had started to frown disapprovingly. 

“Maybe he is yearning for something different. Seidr is a woman’s craft after all,” another snickered, but apparently, he had gone too far, because the blond Gryffindor bellowed:  
“Enough! He is still your superior and Seidr is a powerful gift. Lady Frigga is known in all the nine realms!”

Harry frowned where he sat, not quite understanding what those warriors were going on about. The way they spoke about magic sounded odd. Not as all as envious as his aunt had sometimes sounded, or as devilled and arrogant as the Slytherin’s. Not even as fearful and disgusted as his uncle. He wasn’t quite sure what to make off it, besides the fact that it clearly would be the wisest thing to keep his powers secret just as he had planned. Not that it would be a sacrifice. 

 

“She is, but she also is a woman,” A black haired man grinned, but then lifted his hands in a calming gesture. “We respect her and we even respect your brother, but you have to agree that he is a bit feminine.”

 

Now it was apparently Thor’s turn to scoff. “That is the stupidest thing I have heard. He is a Jötun.”

 

However, one of the men must not have realized that the blond’s patient was quickly running thin, because he asked: “And which kind of Jötun?”

 

Harry winced even before Thor could explode. It reminded him of Ron’s thick-headedness.  
“Enough now or I will cut your tongue out personally! What you are doing could be construed as blasphemy!”

 

That was apparently enough for even the thickest warrior ton realize that the blond wasn’t in the mood for jokes any longer. Apologetic sounding murmurs reached his ears and a moment later the group was mounting their horses ones more. 

 

The blond dashed ahead, clearly still agitated and Harry watched the group until they disappeared ones more. 

 

Jawning absentmindedly, he suddenly realized how late it already had to be. Two suns had already set and he still had to get all the way back to the palace.   
Getting up, he stretched and began his long track back to his new home. 

 

As he now past the fields and huts he realized that most people had already retreated inside, probably to go to bed early so that they could be back on their acres ones the suns rose the next morning. It was just like in medieval times. 

 

As more suns set the evening grew quickly cooler and he found himself wishing for one of those heavy traveling capes he had seen some of the soldiers wear in the morning and evening. Or his winter cloak, but that was out of reach. 

 

The town was ghostly empty and quiet as he finally reached it, it almost seemed abandoned, if not for the few candles that still flickered behind some windows.

It took him another half an hour to reach the palace gates at which the guards eyed him skeptically. 

 

“What did a peace hostage out so long?” One of them halted him. He was just as huge and broad-shouldered as every other man besides the dwarves in Asgard. However, he wasn’t impressed. Sure the Aesir could be brutal if they wanted to be, he truly believed so, but from what he had seen so far, they were generally fair as well. 

 

“I was exploring the town and forgot the time.”

The guard eyed him for a moment longer, but then nodded and let go of his shoulder.   
“Don’t miss your classes tomorrow. The Allfather is paying good money for your education,” he grunted as Harry passed him with a nod. 

 

Within the high castle walls, life was still busy. Servants ran back and forth, bearing loaded trays of food and jugs of met. 

 

He was careful to not bump into any of them as he made his way up to his small quarters, however, they seemed to be used to people obstructing their path.

 

His room was dark and slightly chilly as he entered. However, he did not bother to stroke the fire, especially as he had never tried so without a spell and just opted to ready himself for bed. 

 

His duvet was thick enough to keep the slight coldness at bay and he relaxed quickly into them. As unpleasant as the day had started, he had also been able to settle some things for him. Tomorrow he would go to Sigrid and tell her his electives. And then his new life could truly start. 

 

xxx

 

The next morning dawned far too early, however, he did not oversleep. As he slid out of bed and grabbed for his baggy t-shirt his decision from the previous evening came back to him.   
He truly wanted to make a new life here, however, he was still wearing the raggs from when he had first arrived. Raggs that made him stand out like a sore thumb. 

 

He would change that as soon as possible. Maybe he would be able to find some work to earn money so that he would be able to buy himself one of those simple tunics the servants wore. He wouldn’t be as presumptuous to believe that he would be allowed to wear something like the guards, nor would he want to.

 

However, he would ponder about that later, for now, he had to hurry or he wouldn’t have time to go to the Deputy Headmistress before classes began for the day. He quickly got ready took the familiar route to the academy. 

 

He had never been in the Headmasters or deputy headmistress’ office. In contrast to what he was used from Hogwarts, both rooms were in the same corridor on the ground floor and not high up in a tower.

 

The door looked plain and unobtrusive, far simpler than the entrance to Dumbledore’s tower that had been guarded by a gargoyle. 

No voices came from the inside and so he knocked politely. 

“Yes,” the deputy headmistress called out gruffly and he entered. 

 

The Valkyrie sat behind a broad desk that still seemed small in contrast to the female warrior. Sigrid of Vanaheimr looked totally out of place behind it and with a delicate quill in her strong hand, but he smoothed his face over and put a small smile on. 

 

“Ah, Midgardson,” Sigrid greeted him and motioned to the empty chair across from her. 

Good morning ma’am, I am here to hand in my selectives.”

Sigrid grunted at his unfamiliar address, but put her quill to the side and looked up.  
“And what have you decided on?” She prompted when he didn’t immediately continue. He didn't quite use to the Asgardian’s brusk and none-nonsense manner yet. 

“I thought about the Language subject, Runes, and librarian to get to know my new home realm better.”

The deputy headmistress nodded approvingly but said: “I believe the librarian and Language subject is a good choice. However, Runes will most likely be too advanced for your level of knowledge still. You will learn all basic writing systems in the language classes, Runes, however, delves much deeper. It’s more about the art of writing, poetry and such than what I believe you imagine.”

 

“Oh,” Harry retorted, shortly taken aback but thankful for the recommendation.  
“I would recommend that you chose something that interests you. As wise as it is to pick subjects to learn more about our culture, you will need something that interests you enough that it might become a possible career for you.”

 

Nodding silently, Harry decided quickly. “Then I would like to learn healing instead.”  
At that, Sigrid gave him a small smile. “A good choice. Asgard always has too few healers. And so has every other realm I fear.”

 

With that settled the deputy headmistress reached for a plain piece of paper, scribbled something down and then handed it to him.   
“You new timetable.”  
“Thank you, deputy headmistress,” he said and looked down on it. His disrupted schedule was now far more cohesive. The only exception was his practical healing class twice a week, which was scheduled once very early in the morning and once rather late in the evening. 

 

His new timetable would also send him to areas of the palace he had never been to; the hospital and the library included. 

 

“Thank you,” he repeated, before he added, “I will go to my classes then.”  
“Do that, Midgardson. Have a good day,” Sigrid dismissed him. 

 

He arrived just as Torstein was about to start his lecture at the front. 

 

“I hope you have a good reason for your lateness, Midgardson,” the old instructor admonished him. “I do not tolerate tardiness.”  
Nodding, he showed the man the parchment Sigrid had given him. “I went to get my final timetable. It took longer than expected as I misunderstood what would be taught in one subject and had to choose another one.”

 

Torstein nodded and waved him off. 

 

He sat down in his usual seat between his classmates who all avoided his gaze. Sighing, he tried to ignore it and just let another lecture of a boring, weapon-related topic wash over him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all liked it and that you are not too disappointed that Loki still hasn't shown up. However, this will bee a long story, so I think its ok that it takes a while. I planned that he will be introduced in chapter 5.
> 
>  
> 
> Please write me a review, it really helps to get motivated :-)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hallo there :-)   
> I finally had the time and inspiration for the next chapter. I am sorry it took me so long. I don't know where that stupid writer's block came from -.-

Chapter 4:

Harry picked up his pace as he hurried over to the hospital. As exams’ week for the upper years was close his shift at the library had taken much longer than usual with all the books he had to sort back into their correct places. Which was made more difficult by the fact the Asgardian library stretched over an entire floor. 

 

Now he was late, especially considering that the hospital was located in a separate building behind the palace. It always took him at least ten minutes to get there, which always meant that he had to run. 

 

Six months had gone by since his arrival in Asgard. In that time a lot had happened and at the same time, only little had changed. 

 

The news that he was Midgardian had gone around quickly and by now nearly every student was avoiding him. However, his new selectives had come as a reprieve there. Not many other students had picked the same electives he had chosen as Healing required a special type of character, strong in a different sense than a warrior needed to be and languages was rumored to be very challenging (once again in a different way than fighting) and the job as a librarian was just very unpopular. It gained too little attention and posed no chances of glory. 

 

However, those who had chosen those subjects, were all outsiders like he himself. He wouldn’t say that he had found friends that way, but at least friendly acquaintances with whom he could exchange a few words during his classes and shifts. 

 

What certainly hadn’t changed was his lack of talent for any fighting related class. He was getting more and more disapproving looks from his tutors, especially in the sword-fighting and physical combat class, but he tried to ignore it as well as possible and don’t worry about it too much. After all, no instructor had called him out on it yet. 

 

Maybe that was because they, just as his classmates, thought that he as a Midgardian was weak. He certainly could prove them wrong, but he had no intention to. He was happy as the unimportant, boring and mortal librarian and healer apprentice.

 

He reached the entrance doors of the hospital and slowed down. If his superiors saw him running in a building full of injured people without a good reason he would be in trouble. slowing down to a more appropriate speed, he took a calming breath to help himself concentrate on his shift ahead. 

While his practice lessons had been written down on his timetable ever since he had gotten it, today would be his first shift where he would be allowed to do work completely on his own. 

 

Well, not completely. Lady Aya, the head healer of the ward he had been stationed in, would surely keep a close eye on him, but it would still be more than he had been allowed so far. 

 

The past weeks had been filled with rewrapping and controlling nearly completely healed wounds or watch his tutor while she dealt with the more severe problems. 

 

Turning, he entered the first room to his left and looked around for his instructor and classmates. 

 

The Hospital was separated in different wards, just like the hospitals he had known from the earth. On the ground floor, all the acute injuries were treated, like sword and spear wounds, injuries the guards and warriors contained in skirmish and during their training. The location had been chosen so that the patients wouldn’t need to be carried up the stairs to the other levels, where things like colds were dealt with. 

 

However, the Asgardian hospital was not comparable to either a muggle or a wizarding Hospital. Instead, it was a strange mixture of a rather old-fashioned muggle hospital where some magical healers worked on the more difficult cases. However, it worked and Harry had learned already a lot in the month he had been studying the subject. 

 

Sometimes he felt slightly bad for only having signed up for the normal healing classes when he knew that with the help of his magic he could do so much more, but he soothed himself with the thought that he watched and listened to Lady Aya whenever he had a chance and additionally, he also read up on magical healing in the library and with the help of the tomb from Sirius. 

 

He finally spotted Lady Aya next to a bed at the far end of the long room and made his way over.   
She turned as if she had sensed him and he quickly greeted her.   
“My apologies for coming too late, but the library was busy.”  
Lady Aya gave him a soft, understanding smile and nodded. “Yes, exams are coming up soon. I can imagine that your workload was quite big. Don’t worry, we are not fighting a war currently, therefore, your lateness is excusable.”

“Thank you. Where should I start?”

Lady Aya looked around for a moment and then pointed to the opposite row of beds.   
“I have finished checking the patience on this side, but you can continue with the next. I will check on you later.”

 

Nodding, he walked to the little room where the trolleys with the medical supplies were kept. He fetched one and then went to his first patient, a huge man that had injured his left leg during sword practice. 

 

“Good evening Aik. How is your leg?”   
The red-bearded man looked up from the book that he had been reading with a bored expression and upon recognizing Harry, smiled broadly.  
“Good, good. It’s getting better. Thanks to Lady Aya’s and your care. You know, I never thought much about people who chose such a boring task instead of fighting, but man you two did a good job. Wouldn’t have been able to handle the pain without your little potions.”

 

Smiling at the man, Harry leaned forward and began to unwrap the wound. The sword of Aik’s friend had injured a tendon, no wonder that it had hurt like hell.   
“I am happy to hear that. Let me quickly check and with a bit of luck, you can leave in one or two days. But no strange house practice for at least two more weeks,” he advised as he carefully pulled the gauze off. The sutured cut was still slightly swollen and an unpleasant yellow and green around the edges, but the sewing line was dry and cold, so no infection had settled in. 

 

“That looks already really good,” he told his patient, who peered at it as well and made a face.   
“If you say so lat. To me, it still looks horrible. But you are the expert.”  
Chuckling, Harry shook his head. “I am not an expert yet. But hopefully one day I will be.”

 

“I am sure you will,” Aik nodded seriously. “I have visited a lot of comrades here over the years and seen many apprentices, but none of them were so quick on the uptake. You know that other boy? Alvar? He started here half a year before you and Lady Aya would not let him near a patient alone yet. Almost a pity that you cannot perform magic, but then again, it would be embarrassing to be gifted with such a women’s power.”

 

It wasn’t the first time since his arrival in Asgard that he had heard such opinions about magic, the first time having been on his little outing to the countryside. However, he still didn’t understand it. To him, magic had always been genderless, but Aesir had another opinion. Why, however, he had yet to find out. But as such, men who were capable of seidr were often belittled and put with women on one step, which was offensive in a society where women and men were not equal. 

 

Some even went so far to conclude from this talent to the men’s sexual preferences, which was even more ludicrous. However, he kept silent as he was sticking out as the only Midgardian on Asgard already and just smiled understandingly. 

 

“And done!” He announced as he fastened the new dressing and straightened again.   
“I will tell Lady Aya that in my opinion you can be discharged tomorrow, but it’s her decision in the end.”  
“Thanks, lat,” Aik nodded and gave him a thankful grin. “Can’t wait to get out of this boring place. I am just no book-person. I have never been to. This was the longest week of my entire life.”

 

“I can imagine,” he grinned and winked at the soldier before going over to the next bed. 

 

The next two hours he worked concentratedly and diligently, only interrupted by a few short conversations here and there. Soon he had all but forgotten that his tutor was watching him as he felt right in his element whenever he was healing. 

 

The injuries he checked were all more or less the same. Cuts or broken bones, with a dislocated shoulder or knee in between. As Lady Aya said, it was no wartime and therefore the injuries they had to take care of were not very bad, which he was glad for. 

 

After he had changed the last dressing of the last bed in the row he had been assigned to, he was still so deep in thoughts that he nearly ran into his tutor as he turned with the trolly. 

 

“I am sorry, ma’am,” he apologized quickly as he hastily bent down to pick a package of gauze up that had fallen. 

 

“No worries, Harry. I am very satisfied with your work and so are your patients, I believe. You are very liked among the soldiers.”

 

Flushing, Harry nodded, not quite sure what to say in return. Sometimes he believed that it was his Gryffindor spirit that made him get along so well with the soldiers he met, after all, Godric Gryffindor had been a knight, something very similar to a soldier.

 

“From now on,” Lady Aya continued and he quickly concentrated back on her “you will always check this row of beds when your shifts start. Additionally, be prepared to be called to the treatment room. I believe it is time you learn how to treat minor injuries on your own. With supervision, of course.”

 

Harry’s eyes had gone wide as saucers. To be allowed into the treatment room was a huge step. He had heard older students complain about how picky and difficult Lady Aya could be, and how it had sometimes been years before they had been allowed to do more than change bandages and watch. 

 

“I do not say this often,” his instructor continued “but you have a natural talent for this. A pity that you possess no magic. You could become a great healer,” she ended with a sigh, before giving him an approving nod and dismissing him for the day. 

 

“Already?” he asked surprised, but only got a warm smile in return.  
“You deserve an evening off. You have worked hard this week, Harry. We tutors talk, you must know.”

Flushing again, he thanked her one last time, before bringing his trolley back to the storage room and leaving the hospital. 

 

In contrast to his usual time when he left the marble building after an evening shift, the suns had not yet all set and despite his busy week, he felt awake and energized, not in the mood to return to his small quarters yet, to be honest. 

 

Therefore he stopped when he had reached the courtyard from which the path to the school and palace separated and looked around for a moment.   
The evening was nice and mild, in contrast to the heat earlier that day during which he had been glad to retrieve to the library. However, now he felt, it was just the perfect temperature to stroll through the wide gardens and relax for a bit. 

 

Tomorrow would be a Saturday, which meant while he would have to go to the library and Hospital, later on, he could first sleep in for a bit, so there was no reason why he should rush back inside. 

 

His mind made up, he took a smaller path that would lead him directly to Queen Frigga’s beloved rose garden. It wasn’t his destination, but it was a good starting point. 

 

In his spares free time, he often wandered the endless maze of gardens and courtyards. He had always liked to be outside after years locked in a cupboard. 

 

On one of his strolls, he had found a small and slightly abandoned-looking garden at the very edge of Asgard which a little cave that often granted him shelter from the hot sunlight of the planet. That was where he now was heading to. 

He walked past beautiful flower beds, ponds, and fountains. It took him nearly 20 minutes to reach his destination, but as soon as he stepped through the gate in the ivey hedge he felt a relaxing calmness settle into him. 

 

For a few seconds, he just relished in the view of the garden. As Asgard was not a round, but rather flat planet, he could see right into the universe from its edges. The little river that cut through the grass also fell into the beautiful nothingness, creating a view, unlike anything he had ever seen on earth. 

 

Close to said edge stood a beautiful, old willow tree, where he usually sat down on those days where it wasn’t too hot to sit outside. 

 

It was a strangely thrilling feeling to sit there, one leg dangling down into the icy cold universe, but somehow he liked it and so he took his usual spot once again. 

 

As he relaxed against the sturdy tree trunk, his mind wandered back to the conversation he had with his tutor not even an hour ago. Never would he have thought that he would find a talent besides defeating and killing dark wizards. But he had and he never had felt as content and happy as he did right now, as he realized how much good he could do with his gift for healing. 

 

That thought, however, brought a conflicted frown onto his face. He would be able to do even more if he only admitted that he was a wizard. That he could use seidr. 

It wasn’t the first time that this thought entered his mind. While many Aesir were not capable of performing magic, the planet itself was full of power. Wherever he walked he could feel it buzzing on the breath and tickling his skin. He could smell it upon the flowers in the rich gardens and see it in the sparkling of the rivers. 

 

It was making him remember how much he had once loved magic. How beautiful a gift the power truly was. And it made him doubt his own decision. 

 

Should he let his love for magic be ruined by one obsessive old wizard? Or by people, he would never see again?

 

Here on Asgard, he was no hero. Even if he admitted to being a wizard, the worst thing he could expect would be to broaden his healer education and a few snide remarks from stupid soldiers that felt too uncomfortable with their sexuality to be more open minded.

 

Sometimes he missed the pleasant tingle that had always flowed up his arm when he was casting a spell. Or the delight that came from successfully mastering a new incantation. 

 

The air on Asgard was so charged, that he even believed he would be able to cast spells without the aid of his wand. 

 

Without realizing it, his right hand had stretched out towards the group of apple trees at the other end of the garden. However, he stopped himself in the last second and bit his bottom lip. 

 

Should he do this? Should he give in to his growing longing and risk all he had built for himself so far? Would he even be risking it? After all, he had heard two times today that it was a pity that he wasn’t magical. 

 

Before he knew it, he whispered: “Accio apple,” barely audible, but it was enough.  
The red fruit flew into his outstretched hand with a speed that the impact made a smacking sound. 

 

However, Harry was barely feeling it as his heart raced and his breathing came out in ragged gasps. He had forgotten how good it felt. How much the magic was a part of himself. 

Suddenly he felt as if he had lived without his arms for the last six months and had just gotten them back. How could he have ignored his innermost essence for so long? 

 

A huge grin split his face into two as he stared down onto the apple still clutched in his hand and his breathing calmed down. 

 

He wasn’t quite sure if he would tell his tutors or not. The prejudices sorcerers had to face in this world frightening him a little and besides, he wanted to keep his retrieved gift to himself for a while yet. But one thing he knew, he would never go without using his magic for so long again. 

 

________________________________________________________________________

 

Loki’s head snapped up from where it was bent over yet another old tumb. Had it been his desperate mind that had made him imagine the soft and tender prickling on his skin? 

 

He wanted to put it down as his nerves being on edge, as him sensing some of his mother’s mages and interpreting the sensation wrongly. However, his body was stirring in a way it had never done outside of desperate dreams in which his feverish mind had fantasized about finding a Skapa, a mate.

 

He felt the thorn on his male sex push uncomfortably against his tight leather trousers. Sterkr could only mate with one of their kind, one reason why he never visited the brothel with his brother Thor and why the soldiers (additionally to his ability to use seidr) believed him to be not quite masculine or interested in his gender. 

 

That, of course, was not the case. He was quite dominant. However, the narrow-minded and generally ignorant brutes his brother liked to surround himself with, would never be able to make out the fine and delicate differences which differentiate a Sterkr from a Skapa. It was only natural for a nation of inter sexed beings that the physical distinctions would be small.

 

But he would notice them immediately. He yearned to touch one of those small, hard breasts, which looked neither quite like the feminine version of the Aegir, nor like his own, lat, muscled abs. Skapa were also more slender, less broad-shouldered and gifted with a wider hip, similar to that of real females. 

 

It was a sign that they, in contrast to Sterkr, could easily survive the delivery of a litter of new Jötnar. While Sterkr as well were able to get pregnant, ⅔ died during the birth. Their body was just not meant for the task. 

 

Unfortunately, Skapa had always been rare and thanks to his biological sire, they were extinct for many millennia by now. 

 

He knew, from visits to his birth realm, that some brave Sterkr had started to try to carry the next generation, to save their race from extinction. Maybe he should ask his mother to give him one of his healers to take to Jötumheimr? Maybe that would save at least some of those brave ones. 

 

Unfortunately, Skapa had even been rare before they had been hunted down.   
The monarchs before Farbauti believed that their rareness was part of the divine order.  
A Sterkr was meant to woo and compete for the Skapa that had captured his heart and winning their heart in return, meant winning the highest price of the noblest tournament.

 

Those beliefs had of course been all but forgotten. Even though in recent years, as their dooming extinction became more aware in the minds of the surviving Sterkr, they had started to question the correctness of those believes. 

 

Unfortunately, it was too late at this point. 

 

Unable to ignore the sensation which had grabbed his body any longer he rose with one fluid motion from his seat and walked over to the nearest window as if in hope that he would find there whatever had caused this uproar in him. However, he, of course, could find nothing. 

 

His sex softened again and he was about to write the incident off as some fluke after all when another touch of magic suddenly danced over his exposed arms. Instantly his manhood rose to attention again. However, he ignored it in favor of turning around and storming out of the library.

 

This time he was sure. Somewhere on the palace ground a Skapa had successfully hidden and survived and he would find him. 

 

________________________________________________________________________

 

“There you are, Midgardson!”  
Blinking, Harry quickly grabbed the apple he had been levitating so that whoever had spoken, would not get suspicious. Looking up, he saw a small servant girl at the entrance of the garden. 

 

“Can I help you somehow?” he asked and rose to his feet.  
“Queen Frigga is summoning you.”

 

His eyes grew wide and he instantly grew nervous. Why was the queen summoning him? Had he done something wrong? Well, he had no time to wonder now, he needed to get going. Who knew how long the servant girl had been looking for him? The last thing he wanted to do was upset Frigga. 

 

“Is she in the throne room?” he questioned quickly and stood up.  
The girl nodded.   
“Then I will go to her immediately,” he told her and started a quick pace.

 

For not the first time he wished he knew how to apparate, but alas he didn’t and he had decided to leave his magic behind anyway. He needed to remind himself of that. Levitating an apple in an abandoned part of the castle was one thing, apparating into the throne room something else entirely.

 

So instead he hurried as quickly as his feet would carry him through the gardens until he had reached the wide courtyard behind the palace. Turning left, he ignored the shouted question of the guard next to the entrance and began to jog down the long corridors. 

 

Only when the huge portal of the throne room came into view, did he slow down to catch his breath.

 

“The Queen is summoning me,” he gasped, addressing one of the guards.  
The giant frowned, before telling him: “The queen is not here. She left for her private quarters a while ago.”

 

Fearing that he was far too late and would have to deal with Frigga’s anger, Harry gulped.  
“But she send a servant girl to fetch me.”

 

“I will bring you to her receiving room. She should be waiting for you there, then,” the guard said in a voice that suggested he was trying to calm down a frightened child, or hose.

 

“Thank you,” he inclined his head and followed the man down a hallway he had never entered so far. It was narrow and quite dimly lit, but it let to a beautiful, golden door. 

 

The corridor beyond was wide and spacious. High windows filled it with plenty of sunlight and many shiny doors let to more rooms. 

 

The guard came to a hold in front of one of them and knocked shortly. 

 

“My Queen, one of the peace hostages is wishing to be granted an audience,” the man called out even though Frigga had called for Harry and not vise versa. However, Harry wouldn’t argue the point.

 

“Please let him in,” Frigga’s melodious voice sounded and after a loud “Yes, my Queen,” the soldier opened the door for Harry. 

 

Thanking him, Harry slipped inside.   
Queen Frigga was sitting on a very expensive looking sofa, a book on her lab. However, as he kneeled respectfully, she closed it and placed it carefully on a small side table. 

 

“I see my lady’s mate had a hard time to find you. Take a seat.”

 

A bit surprised, Harry rose wordlessly and walked over to the nearest armchair. He wasn’t quite sure about the protocol for such an audience, he hadn’t been called once since his first day in Asgard. So he just waited for the Frigga to tell him why she had summoned him. He didn’t have to wait long:

 

“I have long since made it, my duty to mentor our new peace hostages, even when with most of them, it is only from afar.”

 

A sinking feeling crept up Harry’s spine. There was only one reason why Frigga would have called him; his miserable fighting skills. 

 

“The tutors of your selective have only praise for you,” the queen continued with a small smile. “Especially Lady Aya, even though your talent for languages is in no way superior. However, the teachers in your regular class came to me with some concerns.”

 

Frigga’s beautiful expression fell a little and she sighed.   
“Harry, every being has their unique strong point and in connection to that, their unique weaknesses. I will not expect you to become an exceptional warrior. The Norns know we have enough of them and too few healers and mages. However, we are a nation of warriors. We Aesir protect and keep the Nine Realms together, which is not possible without fighting. Therefore even our healers often have to accompany us to the front.”

 

“I understand, your Highness,” Harry mumbled and lowered his eyes, feeling thoroughly scolded although she had said nothing truly reprimanded yet.

 

“My son,” she continued, her voice lighter again, “often helps those soldiers or recruits who have problems with one fighting technique or the other. He is a great warrior, just like his father. He has volunteered to help you with your sword fighting and your sparring. You may expect a visit from him soon.”

 

“Thank you, Your Highness,” he mumbled with a bow of his head, even though he didn’t feel like training even more. He doubted that it would change anything, not as long as he would have to fight against one of those tall Aesir.

 

“Do not look so crestfallen, Midgardson. You have many talents, I only wish you to survive should the times grow dire once again,” Frigga suddenly said and her voice was as warm as it had been on the day of his arrival. 

 

“Maybe you merely have not yet found the right weapon for yourself.”

 

Harry blushed. He knew exactly what weapon he should wheel. What weapon he was exceptional with. Once again his resolve to keep his magic hidden wavered. He hoped it would not start to crumble completely. He didn’t want to be even more of a freak than he already was.

 

Still, he said: “I hope so.”

 

Frigga gave him one of her reassuring smiles. “You may leave now, Midgardson. You have worked hard today and deserve the rest. We Aesir tend to forget how young humans at your age still are. When my sons entered puberty they were already a few hundred years old. How many years have you lived so far?”

 

“I…” Harry started, not quite sure what to answer. He still believed that he had died before he had awoken on Asgard. In the end, he decided on saying: “I was 15 when I arrived here.”

 

The queen’s eyes widened. It would have been comical if it wasn’t si sad that she knew so little about one of the realms under her protection.   
She, however, collected herself quickly and cleared her throat delicately. 

 

“Maybe you just need more time to come into your own. For Aesir 15 years is barely more than the blink of an eye and you are one of us now.”

 

She made a dismissive gesture and Harry took the hint.

 

Bowing respectfully, Harry left the receiving room and was relieved to find the guard who had shown him the way still waiting outside. He followed the guard back to the throne room and thanked him before leaving for his room. 

 

He had planned to return to the gardens, but when Thor would search him out soon, he should prepare his practice sword. It was only made from wood, Asgardian Oak, but even that needed to be oiled to not grow brittle. 

 

At least he believed it would be Thor who would train him. He was the one prince that was spoken of the most and always in connection with great battles.

 

Somehow the thought made him nervous. Thor had to be tall and strong, like his father Odin and he knew he would never have a chance in a sword fight against the Allfather.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thats it. I hope you all enjoyed the chapter.  
> Please read and review :-)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hallo my beloved reader :-)  
> I am so overwhelmed! I never got so many reviews for a single chapter! You guys are awesome! Mostly when I ask for opinion, only one or two answer; So thank you.
> 
> I tried to answer as many of you personally, especially those who wrote additional notes. For all of you who haven't gotten a personal reply, it is, because there was a very clear direction you would like the story to go into and I decided to answer all of you now:
> 
>  
> 
> Many of you really would like to see a blue Jötun-Loki. Also, that I describe him in more detail than the movies give us. Which will be no problem as I feel that way as well. Also, Harry will meet Loki in his Aesir-form, however, there will be no hiding game between them. That is not what this story will be focused on. Although, Loki will have to search to find the Seidr user he is sensing, but that is something different in my opinion.
> 
> Hope you are all fine with those decisions. Now have fun with the next chapter. I really was quick this time XD  
> JSG

Chapter 5:

 

Loki watched his reflexion in his room-high mirror as it slowly shifted back to the Aesir form. He disliked the form. It had felt wrong even before he had learned that it wasn’t his true body.

 

He had played with the thought of not changing his looks often enough. However, the climate on Asgard was already difficult to bear when his Jötun nature was suppressed. It grew unbearable when it wasn’t. 

 

Besides, despite him being no coward, he already had to listen to enough stupid and narrow-minded comments from the Aesir for his seidr usage. He didn’t need to make his life additionally complicated by running around in a form everyone on this planet would view as a monster.

 

Most Aesir were of course aware enough what and who exactly he was for years. It kept the degrading comments and pranks at bay somewhat.

 

Taking his leather cape from where he had draped it over a chair the evening before, he glared down at his boots. Shoes were the most annoying thing about living as an Aesir. Jötnar did not need or wear shoes, not even when the ground had frozen over. It was one thing he would never grow accustomed to. 

 

However, he pushed the thought to the side and left his quarters.   
He had tried to speak to his mother the day before, however, she had been busy with one of the peace hostages. 

 

He snorted inwardly. That boy had to be exceptionally untalented for his mother to interfere personally. Yesterday it had annoyed him more than anything else. To have to wait when the future of his home realm was on the line had nearly overstrained his patience. 

 

The guards stationed in front of the royal wing opened the golden entrance door wordlessly as he neared and bowed respectfully as he passed. 

 

The door to his mother’s boudoir stood open and he could see her sitting in front of her dressing table, combing her long, golden hair with a soft brush.

 

He came to a halt and just watched her for a moment. Since his fallout with the Allfather, he hadn’t spoken to her. However, staying angry with Frigga proved much more difficult than staying angry with Odin. 

 

Frigga was a truly good person by nature and regardless of what the reasons for Odin had been to take him in, his mother’s had been pure. Of that, he had no doubt. However, knowing that in the end, she would always stand at the side of her husband, had made it unable for him to speak to her. But now he had to.

 

Knocking against the doorframe, he watched as she turned and her confused look brightened almost instantaneously.

 

“Loki, my son,” she gave him a soft smile and stretched a hand out invitingly.  
“Mother,” he greeted her and stepped closer, taking her hand for a fleeting moment. “How have you been?”

 

“Better. It’s a relieve that your father woke up again so quickly,” she said and motioned for her to take a seat. 

 

Loki ignored the comment, unable to answer with something, that would not hurt her once again. Instead, he told her:  
“I tried to visit you yesterday, but the guards told me you were busy with one of the peace hostages. Does he or his realm cause problems?”

 

“No, not the slightest,” his mother shook her beautiful head. “The boy in question arrived under strange circumstances half a year ago. He has a great talent for healing. So great, I find myself wishing he would possess the gift of seidr. he would have the potential to become great. Maybe even surpass me. His compassion is unmeasurable.”

 

Loki raised an eyebrow. Such praise from his mother was rare. Especially in her field of expertise. Curious, he asked:  
“What is the problem with him then?”

 

Frigga laughed, a sound like silver bells. “As talented as he is in his healing, as lacking is his skill with weapons of any kind. As much as I would like to relieve him from that burden, he needs to pass at least the elementary courses.”

 

Loki nodded, understanding the situation in a way not many Aesir would be capable of.  
“We are always lacking healers. Their gift always is underestimated. Just as mages.”

 

“Wise words,” his mother agreed, before changing the topic. “Now tell me, what brought you here? I doubt that your anger has abated yet. So what brings you to my boudoir this early?”

 

“It is funny that you mentioned healers because I have come to request one,” he told her and leaned back in her seat.   
Frigga’s face instantly clouded over with worry and he added: “Not for me. But for my people. Jötnar are dying, because they try to bear young, despite knowing that their bodies are not made for the task.”

 

“And you hope a healer could save some of them?”

 

“I do,” he confirmed.

 

His mother sighed and reached out to take his hand. “Loki, as much as I am proud to see that you want to protect your people and wish to help you, I have not the power to send a healer to Jötunheimr.”

 

A pang of disappointment went through Loki and he pulled his hand away. He had not thought that his mother’s loyalty to Odin would go so far. That she would let an entire race die. 

 

“Oh Loki,” she said and tried to grab his hand once more, but he lifted it before she could reach it.  
She sighed. “You must understand. The climate in Jötunheimr is difficult for every race who is not a frost giant.”  
“Just as difficult as this heat is for me,” he shot back and rose to his feet, glaring down at her. He felt something close between the, like a door. A connection that was crumbling. 

 

“This heat is not deadly for you, but for them the cold of Jötunheimr is. I can not force them to go,” Frigga said. “However, I will not stop any volunteer either.”

 

He couldn’t suppress a sneer. No Aesir would ever volunteer to help a Jötun. Without his mother’s influence, his race would die sooner or later unless… 

 

For a split second he thought about demanding the Skapa, he had no doubt his mother knew who it was, but he dismissed the idea. He wasn’t sure if his mother would not refuse the request either. So he would wait and search for the Jötun himself and only go to Frigga once he knew who he was. Or just take him along, depending on the situation. 

 

“Very well. I will issue an official request to Lady Aya,” he, therefore, retorted, before inclining his head. “I wish you a pleasant day, mother,” he said and turned on his heels. Frigga called after him, but he ignored her.

 

He had much to do. He would need to go over to the hospital and after that, he would start searching for the last of his fair kin. It would certainly not be an easy task, after all, the Skapa had managed to hide for centuries, which meant his magic had to be impressive.

 

Of course his magic would be impressive, otherwise, he would not have sensed it from such a distance. His body stirred once again, but just like the day before he ignored the sensation and just continued on his way. 

 

Giddy anticipation rose inside of him and it was only heightened as he stepped outside and saw the dark clouds gathering on the horizon, hiding the suns which made living on Asgard so unbearable to him. Maybe the day would turn out better than expected after all.

 

________________________________________________________________________

 

Harry groaned when the sound of loud knocking woke him.  
Sitting up and rubbing his blurry eyes, he mumbled something that the visitor must have taken as an invitation because a moment later one of the many servant girls stepped in. 

 

“I have a message from the Headmistress,” she began instantly, apparently not noticing his sleepy state. 

 

“Classes will be moved to the afternoon, due to the weather. But if you have a selective that does not require practice on the training feels, you are to go there.”

 

The girl curtseyed and left again, leaving a bewildered Harry behind. 

 

In the six months, he had been on Asgard, his classes had never been moved due to weather. Worried, he stood up to take a look out of the window. He imagined a tornado approaching or something similar, however, what greeted him was nothing more than the equivalent of a rainy and slightly stormy British autumn morning. 

 

Well, maybe the Aesir were not used to such weather. It had to be this way because as he glanced down onto the courtyard below, he saw that the guards had bundled up in thick, woolen cloaks which they had pulled up to their ears. He wanted to snort, but one thing was correct, they would not be able to practice their sword fight or sparring outside in this weather today. 

 

Walking over to his small wardrobe and pulling a simple tunic out, he pondered where he should go then. To the hospital or the library?  
The hospital always could use an additional hand, however, exams were not quite over yet and the library was drowning in requests for books and those who were handed back in and needed to be reported. 

 

So the library it would be, for now, he decided. 

 

Humming contently, he turned to the breakfast tray which some very silent servant had left for him at an hour where he still had been too deeply asleep to notice anything. He ignored the met, even though it didn’t task bad and instead focused on the water, bread, and cheese. 

 

He would give a hand for something sweet, he had always preferred pancakes and treacle tarts to eggs, cheese, and bacon in the morning, however, that clearly was not the taste on Asgard.

 

Sighing, he tried to cut a slim peace off the big chunk of dark yellow cheese. It was rather strong in its taste, far too strong for his liking. Worse even than chaddar which he never had preferred either. 

 

He nibbled on it, but then placed it back down and decided to just eat his bread with some of the salted butter.   
When he was finished, he slipped into his sandals that reminded him strongly of those ancient roman statues wore. Only real soldiers wore sturdy boots, he had noticed. 

 

The way to the library was rather far and intricate, but by now he knew it by heart. Just like to every important room in the palace, not a door but a huge portal lead inside. It wasn’t made from gold, only dark and shiny wood, but it looked impressive none the less. 

 

However, to call the library a room, didn’t do it any justice.   
It was a hall, easily four times as big as the Great Hall at Hogwarts had been, with high rows of shelves and more than one level. 

 

The shelves and stone pillars were beautifully ornamented and golden plates indicated the section one entered. 

 

There was a long counter to the right side where one of the students usually worked. However, Harry passed it with only a short greeting and walked further to the back, where a small room was separated to discuss and distribute the workload. The head librarian, Lady Skye usually worked there and that was where he headed to.

 

As usual, the door stood slightly ajar. he still knocked before he entered, but instantly froze and took a step back at the side in front of him. 

 

A rather small young man (meaning he was about the hight of an average human) stood next to Lady Skye’s desk. However, that was not what had shocked Harry, but his state of dress or rather state of undress.

 

The only thing the boy wore besides his wavy, golden hair was a white loincloth with golden flower pattern, which was tied in the back in a way that reminded Harry of those strings some girls liked to wear.

 

He felt his face heat at the sight of the round and muscled ass cheeks and quickly moved his gaze up, only to gaze at an equally muscled and exposed back and, to his wonder, a pair of small, dragonfly-like wings.

 

The wings twitched and the boy turned around. His eyes were startling blue and he gave Harry the by far friendliest smile he had gotten on Asgard so far. 

 

“Morning! You must be Harry.” The strange boy exclaimed excitedly, making Lady Skye sigh and shake her head in the background.  
“My name is Clematis. Prince Clematis actually, but that's not important,” Clematis waved himself off before continuing without giving Harry a chance to say anything. “I am your new partner here. Please take good care of me,” he bowed slightly and Harry finally realized that the boy was waiting for a reply. However, his brain was still in a state of shock.

 

He, of course, knew that students usually worked in pairs in the library, however, their number had been uneven, thus, why he had worked on his own so far. But now it seemed, he finally would get assistance. Some very naked and exuberant assistance. 

 

His brain finally decided to catch up, but the only thing that came out of his mouth was an “oh… ok…” that sounded just as confused as he felt. 

 

“Harry,” Lady Skye, fortunately, spoke up and he gladly turned to her.  
“Clematis is the newest peace hostage. His father has sent him here as proof of his continued alliance which has been strong and unbroken for the last 1800 years,” she told him in a tone of voice that suggested the information was important. 

 

Harry guessed it probably was. Most likely, peace hostages from defeated races were treated not as friendly as from alleys. Being still an outsider due to his status as a mortal, he could understand the value of such information. 

 

“His other selectives are Harvesting and Herbology. Please align your timetables before you leave today. For now, you can start with resorting the books which have been handed back in so far.”

 

Mumbling something affirmative, Harry turned to leave again, trying to pull his mind out of the gutter. For someone like him, who had never been comfortable with nudity, someone like Clematis was a shock to his very core. 

 

Of course, he knew that it was narrow-minded and prudish, this kind of dressing clearly was part of Clematis’ culture, whatever kind of being he was. However, his years with the Dursleys had traumatized him in more ways than he still realized and his scrawny body had never helped the matter. 

 

“I am a fairy, by the way,” his new work partner suddenly spoke up.  
Harry wasn’t quite sure what to answer. Telling Clematis that he was a human was probably the wrong thing. However, before he could say something the fairy continued:  
“I know you are from Midgard, but I want you to know that I don’t mind. I mean, how should I? fairies are generally looked down upon for our small stature and soft-heartedness.”

 

Harry could only stare. Sure, Clematis was not as tall as the average Aesir, but he was an artwork of well-defined muscles with much broader shoulders than Harry. Clematis also was at least 5.9 feet tall.

 

Clematis finally seemed to realize that he hadn’t said much yet, because he suddenly frowned and asked: “Is something wrong? Did I offend you somehow?”

His eyes widened. “Oh no, not at all. It’s just…” he made a vague gesture to indicate the loincloth, but Clematis obviously didn’t understand.

 

“Is something wrong with my Duk?”

 

“No, no. Just… aren’t you feeling cold?” He changed his question quickly.   
Clematis frowned and then shook his head. “We fairies usually wear nothing at all.” Suddenly the fairy’s eyes widened. “Of course, humans always cover themselves. I hope I don’t make you feel uncomfortable?”

 

Harry felt the blush return full force but shook his head anyway. He didn’t want to make Clematis feel uncomfortable about an issue as unimportant as clothing.  
“I will get used to it,” he told him and hoped it was the truth.

 

“That’s a relieve,” Clematis smiled. “I look forward to working with you. Lady Skye only had praises for you. she said you are good with languages?”  
Harry nodded, feeling a bit abashed. It had come as a surprise that he was able to pick up new languages with a speed that even surpassed his skills in defense magic. 

 

“I wanted to learn some languages as well, but father said I should keep to more traditional subjects. We fairies are very connected to nature, so its tradition to study Herbology and harvesting. Besides, my father hopes that I will bring home some new harvesting technics to help our people,” Clematis explained with a heavy sigh, however, his bad mood was gone as quickly as it had appeared. “So, what is our first task?”

 

Harry let him back to the front of the library, where a loaded wagon was already waiting for them.   
“They usually organize the books by subject already,” he began to explain and pointed at a pile. “See? Those are all about war strategies. So we will first go to the correct section and then sort them back into their shelves.” 

 

Clematis looked far too excited in Harry’s opinion. Of all the tasks a librarian did, resorting was the most boring. He let the way to the strategy section and then came to a halt.   
“In this library, books are organized alphabetically by title, not by the author’s name. So, if I give you this book, where would you put it?” He asked and handed Clematis a book with the appealing title:

 

“Siega and Famishment by Björn Peterson.”

 

The fairy took it, looked at the title and made a face before starting to search for the right spot. Maybe, Harry thought, Clematis and he wasn’t so different after all. 

 

“Here,” Clematis said after a short while and pointed at a section.   
Stepping forward, Harry checked the spot and nodded.  
“Correct. Now the next.”

 

For the next three hours, they worked silently side by side. The flood of books didn’t seem to stop and every couple minutes a student would ask them where to find some title or the other, or if they could recommend some tomb for their studying or essays.

 

Feeling still slightly embarrassed, Harry tried to look at Clematis as little as possible. However, it grew harder and harder as they fell into a comfortable exchange of words and short sentences. 

 

The fairy seemed to have noticed his predicament. Sometimes Clematis grinned at him with an amused wink. Clearly, embarrassment was a strange concept to his new partner. 

 

Finally, the number of students decreased slightly as lunchtime drew nearer.  
“Let’s stop for now and take a break. We have a break room next to the library. If you want I can show it to you,” he told Clematis who nodded eagerly and began to follow him like a faithful puppy. 

 

“We will take our break,” Harry told the student who stood behind the counter. It wasn’t the one from earlier this morning, but his replacement.

 

“Take your time. You deserve it,” the girl waved at them before returning to her work.

 

They left through the entrance portal and Harry turned immediately left.   
“It’s nothing special, but it saves time. At least my room is far too far away to go there each break,” he told Clematis and pointed at the plain door.

 

“Mine as well. I always got lost this morning while searching for the library,” Clematis hummed sympathetically. 

 

The room was empty aside from a long desk and eight simple chairs. However, as usual, someone had brought a little wagon with snacks for lunch break; mostly bacon and bread and fortunately no cheese. 

 

“Here we are. Just take what you want,” Harry said and cut a piece from the bacon before pouring himself a cup of milk. Sometimes the Aesir combined strange things.   
however, Clematis looked even more unhappy than he did.

 

“We fairies are vegetarian…” the fairy explained when he saw Harry’s questioning look, before sighing and pouring himself some milk as well. 

 

“I am sorry. I could ask Lady Skye to request some fruits for tomorrow?” Harry offered and pushed a chair for his new colleague out.   
“You would do that for me?” Clematis looked disbelievingly.  
“Sure. I would appreciate something else than eggs, cheese, and meat as well,” he grinned and took a bite from his piece of bacon.

 

For a few minutes, they sat silently, until Clematis grew bored or couldn’t bear the silence any longer.  
“How is Midgard? It’s the realm we learn almost nothing about.”

 

Harry thought about his answer for a moment. There wasn’t, much about his past life he could tell, but he had started to like the joyful fairy and he could use a real friend in this new world. 

 

“It is very different,” he began thoughtfully.   
Clematis frowned. “In which ways?”

 

Harry shrugged. “First it's not as hot where I come from, although there are some countries where the summer can grow very hot. We only have one sun and snow in the winter.”  
“Clematis eyes widened. “You have winter? We haven’t had winter in may decades! Are our plants different as well?”

 

“Some I saw on the marked, I haven’t seen before. But mostly they are the same. Apples, pears, cherries, potatoes, grain.”  
“And your school? How was your school? Was it like this one? Lady Syke told me you only arrived here half a year ago, so you must have visited another academy before.”

 

Harry winced inwardly. That was the one topic he couldn’t say anything about.   
“Normal schools are far less formal in our world,” he finally explained. “Our subjects are also totally different. We learn reading, writing, maths, biology, physics, and even art and music.”

 

Clematis' eyes widened even further.  
“I love art and music!” He exclaimed. “Can you play any instrument? I learned the double flute when I was little, but I had to stop when the workload in my other classes grew too much.”

 

Harry shook his head. “I never learned any instrument or even reading notes.”  
Clematis looked disappointed for a moment, but just as earlier, it only lasted a second. “What things did you learn then? What classes did you take?”

 

I…” Harry began and glanced at the fairy. It wasn’t hard to see that Clematis wouldn’t stop asking easily, he just was the type. So he settled on a part-truth that would hopefully satisfy the curious being.

 

“I went to a private school for specially gifted children. We didn’t learn the usual stuff. But I don’t want to talk about it. It wasn’t the happiest time in my life.”

 

“I am sorry I asked,” Clematis’ face was flushed as if finally something was embarrassing to him.   
“It’s fine. I don’t mind. Just… let's talk about something different. Where exactly are you from?”

 

Clematis visibly brightened at his interest. “I am from Muspelheimr.”  
“The land of fire and heat?”  
Clematis’ expressions darkened for a second. “Yes, they call our land this now. We suffered from great heats in the last couple of centuries, however, our land is truly beautiful. We have great forests and wide-stretching meadows.”

 

“Sounds beautiful,” Harry agreed.

 

“It is. We fairies love the nature and everything that grows. I know, many confuse us with those snooty elves, but we aren’t.”

 

“No, you aren’t,” he hummed, thinking about the elves in his regular classes. “We should go back and work for another two or three hours,” he added and stood up.

 

They returned to the library and continued to help the students.  
“How do you know which book they need? There are so many! Have you read the whole library?”

 

Harry had to laugh at Clematis wide-eyed look.  
“No, of course not, even though I try to read as much as possible to become a good librarian and understand the Nine Realms better. It was hard in the beginning. On Midgard, we don’t know anything about the other worlds. For us its fiction.”

 

“How do you do it then?” Clematis frowned.  
Harry shrugged. “There is a long list in Lady Skye’s office with book recommendations for certain topics. Just ask for a copy and try to memorize it. It helps, especially with the topic you can’t warm up to.”  
Clematis snickered. “Like war strategies?”  
“Yes, like war strategies,” he laughed and they continued. 

 

However, not for long as the servant girl who had informed him about his canceled classes arrived a moment later, telling him that the classes would resume. 

 

“Joy,” Harry sighed and turned to Clematis. “Are you coming as well?”  
The fairy shook his head. “No, I have finished school back at home. I am only here for additional studying and as a sign of friendship between the realms.”

 

“Then I see you tomorrow,” he said his good-byes and jogged off. He had to hurry if he didn’t wish to be completely late. 

 

His classmates were all already there when he arrived, taking up the entire first row as usual. Sighing in frustration, he sat down in the row behind them and waited for Torstein to arrive to lecture them another hour about weapons. It was almost as bad as History of Magic had been, although, with Professor Binns the whole school would have agreed, while his classmates seemed to like the boring subject well enough. 

 

His thoughts began to drift off as soon as the lecture started. Absentmindedly he gazed out of the window and watched as the suns broke through the clouds and dried the muddy grounds. 

 

Once the lecture was over, he followed his classmates out to the training ground. He didn’t listen to their excited chattering and only looked up when he realized they had suddenly fallen silent even though they hadn’t even reached the training field yet. 

 

Looking up, he saw a blond giant standing next to their trainer, talking to him with a serious expression. Somehow, the blond Adonis seemed fairly familiar to him, but he couldn’t pinpoint where he had seen him before. 

 

Then the giant turned and the sun reflected on his golden hair and sky blue eyes and suddenly remembered his very first outing where he had seen the racing soldiers. 

 

“You must be the Midgardson!” The man boomed and headed towards him with open arms.  
“By the Norns, you are even small for a Midgardian,” he added, stopped and examined Harry from head to toe.

 

Harry squirmed, feeling even more uncomfortable than he usually did whenever he neared the training field.  
The blond giant, however, seemed to have realized that he had not introduced himself yet (not that it was truly necessary) and added.

 

“My name is Thor, by the way, and I will be your personal tutor until you have caught up to your class’ level.”

 

Gasped and jealous muttering sounded from somewhere behind him and Harry wished the ground would open and swallow him.

 

“Now follow me,” Thor declared and slapped him on the back, which probably had been meant as a friendly gesture, but knocked him to the knees. The jealous murmuring changed into snickering, which grew even worse as Thor pulled him up by the back of his tunic like a small kid and began to brush him off.

 

“Thank you,” he hastily said and tried to pull away as politely as possible. 

 

“We will go to one of the old practice fields. They are rather small, so they are not used for classes or troupes any longer. No one should disturb us there,” Thor told him and began to lead him away from the Academy

 

Harry followed him silently for what felt like hours. They passed the path he always took to get to his favorite garden, the abandoned, peaceful one and walked until not even a guard crossed their path anymore. 

 

Finally, Thor halted in front of a meadow with a low, wooden fence around it, which Harry would have guessed to be an old pasture, not a training ground. The grass was rather high, however, Thor would barely feel bothered. it reached over Harry’s knees however and he already could see himself stumbling around.

 

As Thor pushed a low gate open, Harry saw two practice swords and shields already leaned against the fence as well as something like an old-fashioned dummy standing to the side.

 

“Let’s check your basics first,” Thor announced and tossed him one of the training swords. Jumping in surprise, Harry leaped out of the way. However, when he saw the Odinson’s raised eyebrow and the exasperated look he hastily picked it up. 

 

However, he knew it would not make any difference. He just didn’t feel comfortable with a sword in his hand. Swords never gave him the feeling his wand had been able to. He had hated the fighting and the ruthless training, but one thing Professor Dumbledore had been right about: He was talented at defense and with a wand in his hand, he turned into a talented dueller, a fighter, a soldier. 

 

But certainly not with a sword. 

 

Even worse was, that his first instinct when someone attacked, to fall back into wand movements, which of course didn’t work with a sword at all. 

 

“First combination!” Thor called out and Harry quickly snapped back to attention.

 

He needed a moment to remember what movements all belonged to the first combination before he started. He began with a step forward, his wooden sword raised high above his head, then a defensive stance, a swirl, a step back and so on. His muscles screamed under the heavyweight of the wooden sword, which was constructed to weigh just as much as the steel swords would weigh later on.

 

As he tried to remember the correct steps and hand movements, he felt totally out of place. Like a brick that had been tossed into water. Those movements would never come as natural as the defense-stances he had learned the last couple of years. 

 

Finishing his combination, Harry braced himself and glanced up at Thor. There was a blank look on the thunderer’s face, before he sighed, shook his head and said: “We have much work ahead.”

 

Harry winced and let his arms fall to his side again, the practice sword loosely in his right.

 

“First,” Thor began again after a moment, “You are mixing the defensive and the offensive combination up. You shouldn’t do that yet, not until each movement comes as instinctive to you as breathing.”

 

Thor gave him another, scrutinizing look before he continued with a question that surprised Harry: “Secondly, could it be that the sword is too heavy for you? It certainly is too long.”

 

It surprised him because so far none of his practical tutors had even bothered to question if the heavy weapons, made for the tall and strong Aesir were suited for his much smaller and slenderer build. However, it was true.

 

“Yes, sir,” he nodded.

 

“I thought so,” Thor hummed, looked around for a moment and then walked over to a high patch of grass where he picked something up.  
“For today you will use this,” the thunderer instructed, holding out a long branch that looked definitively lighter than the practice sword.  
“I will go to our weapons chamber later and search for something more fitting to your stature. I am sure we have some weapons from some race there that will match you better. Now watch,” he finished and showed a perfect execution of first the defensive and afterward the offensive combination. 

 

Harry all the while watched silently, feeling small and useless. Suddenly, the wish to get his wand out and show this man that he as well was a great warrior rose inside of him, but he quickly squashed it. 

 

Instead, he concentrated back on what the Odinson was telling him when Thor turned to face him once more. 

 

“It’s important that you grab the sword correctly. Otherwise, you will not be able to execute as much control as you need to. Move your hands slightly more apart and place your thumbs on top of the hilt. Good.” 

 

Thor’s eyes wandered over his stance next, but he only nodded approvingly. It seemed, Harry could at least use something he had learned in the magical world.

 

For the next 90 minutes, Thor let him repeat the first two defensive and offensive combinations until Harry slowly felt as if his muscles began to remember the motions. Thor was a far better instructor than the two he had had at the Academy. The thunderer managed to build the same rush inside of him he had always felt during practice duels. It pushed him to better results. However, at the end of their session, he was still far from perfect or even good.

 

“From now on you will come here whenever the others go to their practice. Mother gave me your time table and I have adjusted my schedule,” Thor told. “I will see you tomorrow then. Go and rest your muscles, Midgardson,” the thunderer winked, before heading back towards the castle with a lazy wave. 

 

For a moment, Harry just stood undecidedly. until he realized that Thor’s advice might be a good one. His muscles already began to burn, a feeling he hadn’t known since his first year of quidditch practice.

 

But he didn’t feel like returning to his room just yet, he never truly did. Neither did he feel like going to the baths, which probably was what Thor has had in mind. Instead, he took his usual route to his favorite garden.

 

Since the training his magic was humming under his skin, reminding him once again that it was an almost sentient energy. He felt as if he needed to release some of it or he would explode. 

 

Letting himself fall beneath the sturdy willow tree, he let his feet once again dangle down into the cold universe, frowning at himself. Something had come to his mind, something he had forgotten until now. The book, the precious heirloom Sirius had gifted him shortly before he had been killed. 

 

It was one of the rarest books in the magical world, if not the rarest and it would solve at least part of his problems. With it, he could practice whatever magic he wanted to still advance in. It was enchanted in a way, that one only had to name a topic and the pages would show everything that had ever been written about it.

 

It had been in his trousers pocket when he had arrived, which had been taken away by one of the servants. However, he should be able to summon it. The tomb was protected with more enchantments and spell than even the old, manipulated coot knew. But then again, he scoffed, that probably wasn’t hard. When had Dumbledore truly protected something?

 

However, something was still stopping him, despite his wish to practice his magic again and the promise to himself to never again deny this important part of his. If he truly started practicing regularly, it would put his carefully constructed, boring life at risk and he couldn’t quite do that yet.

 

So instead he began to once again summon things, conjure water and transfigure little stones and branches. However, it didn’t feel truly satisfying and he felt as if his magic was frustrated beneath his skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, how was it? Good? Bad? Am I moving too slowly? Pleas R&R.  
> JSG


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hallo my friends :-)
> 
> I finally finished the next chapter! But shame on me! I know I promised that Harry and Loki would finally meat, however, the scene will be at the beginning of the next chapter. I hope you will still like it and that it is interesting enough. It is kind of a filler-chapter, but I felt that there were a few things I still need to settle before finally starting the main part. I will try however to update soon. 
> 
> And now I wish you all fun with chapter 6!
> 
> JSG

Chapter 6:

 

“Let’s finish for today.”

 

Harry sighed and dropped into the grass, totally exhausted. He wanted to glare at his tutor as he heard him chuckle, but didn’t dare,

 

He had been training with Thor for two weeks now and slowly the new combinations he was learning were sinking in. Thor had kept his promise and found an alternative weapon for him. Harry had expected the man would show up with a dagger or something similar, but the thunderer had only laughed and told him that he would be killed by a long sword on a battlefield before he came close enough to use a dagger.

 

Instead, Thor had handed him a golden lance, which looked oddly artful. It was made from a single, slender piece of very tough gold. The long handle looked as if ivy vines were growing around it and the tip was very long and very pointy. 

 

He had stared at the weapon at first, thinking that it was even longer than the sword, but the lance was surprisingly light. Apparently it was a fairy weapon and therefore made for people with a lighter stature than the Aesir.

 

Thor had padded the tip with a leather cloth for now, just in case, but it wasn’t that Harry managed to land a hit anyway. For one, Thor was much too skilled and experienced to let himself be injured by a newbie and for another, as soon as they left the strict repetition of the combinations and started a fake fight, Harry still fell back into the wand movement that had been drilled into him. 

 

A shadow fell over him, and as he looked up, he saw that Thor hadn’t left like he usually did, but joined him in the grass. 

 

“I heard that you always have to go to your hospital shifts after we train,” the thunderer said and pulled a wrapped bundle from one of his pockets. 

 

Harry watched as thor unwrapped the package, revealing a piece of dark, smoky bacon and two slices of bread, beforehand him a portion of each. 

 

“There is something in your fighting,” Thor suddenly said and as Harry looked up from his bread, he saw that the man was scrutinizing him with a thoughtful expression. “If I could, I would give you one of those handy little weapons you humans prefer to use. Unfortunately, I haven’t brought one home from my last trip to Midgard.”

 

For a second Harry could only blink in surprise. “You have visited Midgard?”  
Thor nodded. “A couple of times. I visited the land with the high buildings and the funny name,” he said as if that wouldn’t describe almost every country on earth. 

 

“America?” Harry still hazard a guess.  
Thor’s face brightened. “Yes, that one. Did you live there as well?”  
“No, I come from Britain. but most of the year I lived in Scottland. I went to school there.”

 

“Never heard about that country. Was it as exciting as America?”  
Harry shrugged. “Britain is more traditional. But I liked it. Guess it depends on personal taste.”

 

“I guess when you come from... what was it again?... Britain?... you didn’t play American Football?” Thor questions, taking a big bite from his bread.  
“No. That’s more typical for America. We play normal football.”  
“Didn’t you do any sport then?” Thor inquired with a scrutinizing look at his slim frame.  
Huffing, Harry threw his tutor a glare. Only because he wasn’t as muscled as all those Aesir, didn’t mean he was unsportsmanlike.

 

“I was at a sports club and I do have some muscles.”  
When Thor merely gave him another doubtful look, he rolled his eyes and explained further.  
“It was a game only really known to the students of my school. You played it with multiple balls and I was the Seeker.”  
The thunderer had started to look interested and motioned for him to continue.  
“I had to find the smallest ball before the Seeker from the opposing team found it. It brought 150 points which almost always meant one would win.”  
“That doesn’t sound difficult,” Thor commented.  
“It wouldn’t be if there weren’t beaters who try to knock you out.”

 

Thor winced.   
“At least you are quick and agile. That should save your arse f nothing else. Don’t worry. Mother said she doesn’t expect you to become a great warrior. She only wants to make sure that you would survive if you were to accompany a unite.” He patted his shoulder, fortunately with not as much force as he had done in the beginning, before standing up.  
“I believe it’s time for you to leave for the hospital.”

 

Harry hadn’t a watch to check if Thor was right, but he rose anyway.  
“Thank’s for lunch. It truly helped.”  
“No problem, kid. Now go and do what you are meant to be doing.”  
Grinning, Harry winked at him. “I am a good librarian as well. But thanks for the compliment.”

 

With a wave, he left the old training ground and took the path that led back to the academy and from there, to the hospital. He hoped the shift would not be too difficult. Despite the lighter way of the spear, his muscles ached and his arms felt heavy as lead. However, as soon as he entered chaos greeted him. 

 

He jumped to the side as a white-clad Aesir passed him, shouting orders. Belatedly, he realized that it had been Lady Aya, his tutor. Hesitating only a second, he hurried after her. The healer was kneeling next to a large figure and he could see blood pooling to her feet. His heart sank at the amount gathering there, however, he didn’t stop to turn around for the heeler’s bag as Lady Aya shouted:

 

“Hand me the big tourniquet!”

 

With one swift movement, he opened the bag and pulled the belt-like device out.  
“Here,” he said and stepped closer, before freezing at the side in front of him.   
The person on the ground was a soldier, but despite his tall and muscled stature he seemed small and weak crumbled and pale on the ground, the blood pooling from the wound where the lower half of his right leg had almost been severed completely. 

 

However, the moment only lasted a split second. He had seen too many things in his life and since he had started working at the hospital. Although this was quite far up on the list of horrible pictures burning itself into his memory. 

 

He kneeled beside the healer and helped to lift the stump so that they could stop the blood flow that was threatening the soldier’s life.   
The man screamed as Lady Aya pulled and the tourniquet tightened around the sensitive wound. 

 

“We need to get him to one of the surgery rooms,” Lady Aya commanded and immediately, two tall and strong male nurses stepped up and heaved the soldier onto a stretcher. 

 

There were several surgery rooms on the lower floor. So far, Harry had only been watching in one of the smaller ones, where planned surgeries were conducted. However, this time he followed his tutor into one of the biggest ones where the Aesir was already placed onto one of the tables. 

 

Knowing that he wouldn’t be able to help much, he stepped out of the way and just watched as another nurse stepped up to the soldier. It took him a second to realize that she was casting a spell on him to put him into a deep, painless sleep. What followed next was far less pleasant. Apparently, despite their knowledge of magic, Aesir still relied on normal, mechanical methods quite a lot. He realized that as someone handed Lady Aya a huge, horrible looking bone saw. 

 

He forced himself to watch as the leg was amputated. He wasn’t sure what was more horrible, to watch as the wound was finally sewed closed, or as the stump was put into a simple linen bag and carried out, boot and all. 

 

The nurses began to clean first the patient and then, after he had been lifted onto a bed and pushed into a recovery room, the surgery room. 

 

“These are the cases I always find most difficult.”  
Deep in thoughts, Harry startled as suddenly his tutor leaned against the wall next to him with a loud sigh.   
“It might sound cruel to you, but for a soldier, it is more merciful to just die in a battle. He will not be able to return to his work, he will face ridicule and poverty until he manages to learn a new craft,” she continued without prompting. “Of course there is financial support for cases like this, but not enough to cover all the costs a man in his position will probably have. Most soldiers are too proud to even consider a new career. There usually is no happy ending like with the case of Aik, where we could send him home with the prospect of full recovery.”

 

Still staring at the now clean operating table, Harry felt guilt rise inside of him.  
He wasn’t sure if he could have saved the leg directly if he had studied some healing magic this past couple of weeks, but he knew about a potion that would help the man now. 

 

Aesir, elves, dwarves, they all were magical beings at their very core. Potions should work on them.   
Making up his mind, he turned to Lady Aya.  
“May I leave for today?”  
His tutor blinked once as if resurfacing from deep thoughts but then nodded.  
“Of course. You have seen and helped enough for today.”  
Harry shook his head. “I haven’t done anything.”  
“But you have. You have once again proven what a talented healer you are. Keeping calm and focus in such a situation, after only learning the art for a mere six months is incredible. Take the rest of the day off and I will see you tomorrow.”  
Nodding, Harry left the surgery room once again. 

 

He had barely been two hours at the hospital, but he felt more exhausted than after the double shift he had once taken. However, his exhaustion was certainly not physical.   
He couldn’t continue like this; watching all those patience he could easily help if he only started using his magic once again. Was his reputation truly worth more than the lives of those men? Especially when his magic felt like an angry, caged animal inside of him anyway?

 

Besides, he didn’t need to help openly. He could send potions anonymously. Or he could sneak during the night to the patients. He didn’t necessarily need to tell anybody. 

 

Without conscious thought, he turned towards the little garden. The walk didn’t help to clear his head as it usually did. Nothing probably would but manning up to his fears and just start practicing again. 

 

The garden was as empty and deserted as usual, the willow tree a beckoning presence at its edge. Sitting down in the soft grass, he closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath to calm himself, before opening them again and whispering:

 

“Accio Compendium of all Magical Arts.”

 

________________________________________________________________________

 

Glaring at the soldiers passing him, Loki sneered at no one particular.   
Lately, nothing was going even remotely as planned. He had gone to the hospital and met with the head healer the day before. However, she had made it clear that she held not much hope for finding a volunteer healer to accompany him to Jötunheimr. 

 

Lady Aya, however, had written down the specifics of his request and asked him to give her a day to ask around. However, as he had returned to the hospital earlier, he had not even been permitted entry. Apparently, some sort of emergency had occurred and all available healers and nurses had been in one of the bigger surgery rooms. 

 

He hadn’t made any progress in his search for the Skapa either. As if a jinx was on his search. But while he did not doubt that the Skapa would certainly be able to cast impressive magic, the Jötun hopefully had no idea that he was searching him and thus, could not have cursed his undertaking.

 

Even with his search for the Casket of Ancient Winters he had never felt so frustrated. He needed to find the Skapa. And even more important: he wanted to find the Skapa. It was a realization that had only sunken in slowly. He had been too focused on saving his realm to realize what a personal gift a Skapa could mean.

 

It could be the end of his unmated solitude. He, of course, could not force anyone to mate with him, not even as heir to the throne, however, with the Skapa, he had at least a higher chance than before, which had been none at all. 

 

In contrast to some of his kin, he never had been able to find another Sterkr arousing. He had not been able to chase his loneliness away this way. Maybe, it had always been a remaining sliver of hope, that maybe somewhere, somehow a Skapa had survived. Without his thorn, he would never be able to breach the thick, protective skin of a Skapa’s reproduction channel and made with him. 

 

Even if the barrier could theoretically be breached with some sort of knife, he would never insult a Skapa like this. They had the right to an untouched and unclaimed mate if they had to stay pure themselves. 

 

His gaze went unfocused as he imagined a beautiful mate with whom he could share his passion for his home realm, for his gift of seidr. He would finally have someone to give all those tokens he had gathered throughout his life to and whom he could cherish. And maybe, if he was truly lucky, the Skapa would give him a litter in return. He had never even dared to imagine to sire a litter of his own so far. However, the thought ensnared his mind and he felt his sex harden once more.

 

However, his rare daydream was interrupted as something brushed harshly against his cheek. 

 

His glare returned instantly, his mouth already opening whoever stupid brute had so rudely interrupted him a piece of his mind. However, he froze mid-motion as his gaze felt onto a book flying past him. 

 

Instantly his dark mood vanished, replaced by excitement. He didn’t need to reach out with his seidr to recognize the strong magic engulfing the big tomb. Jumping up, he didn’t wast a second and hurried after it, his mind racing a mile a minute. 

 

This would be the day, he could feel it pulsing in his veins. This would be the day where he finally found the Skapa. He ignored the pair of guards he nearly ran over in his wild chase. The tomb entered one of the many endless hallways of the palace and flew up the nearest staircase. Loki’s mind was racing a mile a minute. There was nothing much in this direction. Only communal baths and storerooms. 

 

However, the book didn’t turn into the corridor but floated up to another level. Instantly, Loki’s confusion vanished. This corridor was mainly leveled by small, specialized libraries and the offices of the many scribes the Allfather and mother employed.

 

A victorious smirk stretched his lips. So typical for his mother to hide someone among her beloved scribes. Only her healers she held even more dear. However, he had to admit it had been a brilliant mood. Who would suspect a seidr user among a group of people, who never needed magic? As far as he knew, there was not a single mage among the scribes.

 

It didn’t surprise him that the Skapa had not been able to resist the lure of his seidr. The gift of seidr was no blessing one simply ignored, he knew that all too well. He had tried this past in his youth, back when he still had been affright to be different and wished to be more like his so-called brother. But his seidr had slammed against his inner bindings like a caged lion and in the end, he had given in. Just like his little Skapa clearly had.

 

Reaching the next landing, his eyes instantly began to dart around. He would not miss the office the book would slip into. However, to his surprise, the tomb flew straight past all the doors and directed towards one of the open windows. 

 

Loki’s eyes widened in useless denial. He quickened his pace, but too late. The book slipped out the window and began to make his journey through the air.   
Cursing, he slammed his fist down, but it was of no use. 

 

However, he would not give up just yet. If he could see where the book was heading too, he could easily teleport there. He was a master of seidr after all. Unfortunately, the tomb grew smaller and smaller as it flew over the wide-stretching gardens until it finally vanished in the distance. 

 

Suppressing a growl, Loki tried to see the bright side of the matter. In the direction the book had taken, there was nothing but gardens and the end of Asgard. Hopefully, that meant that his Skapa liked to visit the gardens. His chance was good, he knew. One would not summon a book to a place they would not feel comfortable in. At least not considering that the Skapa was taking on a lot to keep hidden. 

 

He would yet succeed, even if it would take another couple of weeks to search the royal gardens. He would not give up.

 

________________________________________________________________________

 

Despite his conviction, Harry sighed in relief when he saw the heavy tomb appear on the horizon. Sirius surely would kill him if he ever found out that he had almost lost the book. Fortunately, he would never have to find out. 

 

Grinning, he captured the tomb as it dropped down in front of him and placed it carefully onto his lap. The leather was just as soft as he remembered and the golden lettering just as elegant looking. With one hand he stroked tenderly over the cover. 

 

A pang of longing suddenly shot through him. He didn’t regret much about landing in Asgard, but he missed his godfather dearly. Sirius had always tried to understand him, in contrast to his friends of whom he wasn’t even sure what to think about anymore. Of course, he wouldn’t be able to talk with Sirius if he still were on Midgard. Sirius was gone, and no force in the universe could bring him back.

 

But if Sirius were still there and Harry could meet him once again, he knew his godfather would listen. He would turn into his animagus form, place his heavy head into his lap and listen to everything he wanted to tell. 

 

Sirius would listen to his fear of using magic once again and to the story about how nice and easy his life had become since he was nothing more than a healer in training and a boring librarian. His godfather would understand the tumult and conflict and try to help.

 

Deep down Harry knew what Sirius would tell him even without talking to him. His godfather would advise him to listen to his heart and to not do anything he might regret later. Like refusing to use his gift and watch people die or get more hurt than they needed to be. 

 

With that thought, he opened his eyes which he had closed unconsciously and opened the tomb to the first empty page. Placing his right onto it, he concentrated on the topic he wished to read up on and watched how book titles and short summaries appeared in front of him. 

 

He had fortunately learned that the most recent publishings were listed at the top. Healing was a field where people still found new findings nearly every day, so he only scanned the first few titles before tapping one and waiting for the pages to change again. 

 

He had decided with the very basic. His healing classes had concentrated on none-magical means, which meant he knew practically nothing about the magical side of it. 

 

He, of course, had learned the standard burning-salve or healing-potion recipes in his Potions class. But those had been horrible and useless at best. Besides, he wanted to learn spells as it would be easier, more inconspicuous and he wouldn’t have to find out if he could find all necessary ingredients on the market. 

 

Well, maybe he would try to find everything necessary for the scelegro-potion once he felt confident enough that he would be able to brew it without blowing the palace up. But that would come later, for now, he had to start reading. Everything else would come later.

 

It wasn’t difficult to emerge fully in the literature. Healing had become one of his favorite subjects and the mixture of gaining more knowledge in his newfound passion and finally having a good use for his magic again easily kept him going. 

 

Harry barely noticed how his lips and hands moved, automatically practicing and memorizing the spells he read about. Even the prospect to heal simple things as a fractured bone thrilled him. Finally, he would be able to do something good with his powers. 

 

His magic hummed in joy and contentment and he only noticed how long he had been reading and practicing when it grew difficult to decipher the words in front of him.   
Blinking once in confusion, he finally looked up with a frown and gasped when he saw the last sun sinking behind the horizon. 

 

Yawning, he stretched his stiff muscles and got up. He had definitively sat for too long in the same position. He shrank his book, pocketed it carefully and began the trackback to his small but comfortable room.

 

While walking, he realized how much time since his last meal had passed and he quickened his pace.   
It always was amazing how deserted the palace grew as soon as night fell. Most soldiers retrieved to the many taverns of the city, resting their tired bodies after harsh practice and long hours patrolling. Only those on duty stayed, mostly slightly bad-tempered because they couldn’t join their friends. 

 

However, by now he was known well enough that no one stopped him to ask the question anymore. He was well known for roaming the halls regularly after dark. 

 

Someone had lit a small fire in his hearth and he fortunately still found his dinner on his table. 

 

He sighed at the cuisine. Not that the food was bad, but how the Aesir could be so happy with so much meat, cheese, bread, and potatoes. Sighing he looked at his stake and fried potatoes with onions. It wasn’t even that the food wasn’t nice. He just missed his veggies and sweets. 

 

Sitting down, he stared at his plate, his hunger had all but vanished. Not eating, however, would be unwise as well. He needed to replenish after his day of work and practice. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to start. Fortunately, the decision was taken from him as someone knocked softly against his door.

 

Wondering who it could be at such a late hour, he asked:  
“Who is there?”  
“It’s me…” came a cheerful voice and then, after a moment in which the person must have realized that he hadn’t given his name and a door was blocking the view, he added “Clematis!”

 

Surprised, Harry jumped up with a wide grin on his face. This would be a nice change to his usual evening routine and he liked the cheerful fairy. Opening the door, he beckoned Clematis in. 

 

“I thought you might like something to snack on,” Clematis amount, lifting a basket he carried over his arm.  
“Bakon?” Harry questioned before he could stop himself.   
To his relief, his friend made a face and shook his head. “We fairies are vegetarian. And blessed with an exceptionally sweet tooth. I hope you like honey, I brought Muspelheimr honey-cakes. And fruits. Do you like fruits?”

 

Unable to keep an excited exclamation in he relieved his friend of his delicious burden.   
“I love honey. And fruits!” He placed the basket onto his table, before turning around with a grin and adding “I can’t believe I finally get something different than bacon and cheese!”

 

“Are Midgardians vegetarians as well?” Clematis asked, sitting down onto his bed.  
“Usually not. But we usually try to have a balanced diet.”  
The fairy cocked his head. “Balanced diet?”   
“A bit meat, a bit vegetables and fruits, some dairy products,” he explained.

 

“Aesir don’t appreciate fruits very much,” Clematis frowned and motioned for Harry to open the basket. “Just tuck in. I have brought enough.”  
“Thanks.” 

 

Lifting the cloth that was covering the sweet goods, Harry searched for one of those cakes. They were about the size of his palm and at least two fingers thick, glistening with golden, sticky honey. He took a bite even before he had taken his seat. Delicious sweetness exploded on his tongue and he groaned in bliss.

 

“This is so good!”   
“Glad you like it. So, how was your day? Busy?”

 

Harry shrugged. “We had an emergency at the hospital A guy lost his leg.”  
His friend made a face and shuddered. Maybe fairies were a bit sensitive?  
“It wasn’t nice, but we could at least save him. And afterward, I was allowed to leave early. Took the time to go to my favorite garden and study for a while.”

 

“Do you never relax?” Clematis inquired, reaching for the basket and taking out something like a very dark red apple.   
“It was relaxing,” he answered. 

 

It even was true. After the stress his life on Midgard had been, just sitting in the sun and reading was immensely relaxing, even if it was a book about magical healing he was studying. 

 

“Is that the book you have been studying? It looks old. Can I take a look?”  
Harry’s head snapped around, his eyes landing on the heavy tomb that was still lying openly on his table, next to the picknick basket. His eyes widened and he quickly whipped his sticky hands on his tunic.

 

“It is. But it shouldn’t lie around like this. I only borrowed it and it’s really rare and expensive,” he said apologetically and quickly picked his book up, carrying it over to his wardrobe. Once he was obscured by the wooden door, he shrank it wordlessly before hiding it beneath the tunics for his work in the library, before returning to his friend. 

 

“How are your studies going? Did you have any time to play your flute again?” He changed the topic rather inelegantly, however, Clematis, fortunately, didn’t seem to notice.  
“Unfortunately not,” he sighed with a sad expression. “I so would love to play the pieces of Tulip once again,” his friend continued, a dreamy expression replacing the frustrated one.   
“He is my favorite component. He wrote pieces for all our classical instrument, not like those younger musicians who only compose for the instrument the Aesir introduced to us anymore.”

 

“You must play for me one day,” Harry smiled, truly interested. He had never had the chance to develop a taste for music or even get to know the most famous bands and musicians of the magical world, but now his life was different. 

 

“Tell me some more about your home realm,” he said, settling back down with another cake. Tomorrow was his day off, which meant there was no pressure to go to bed early and he planned to enjoy the evening with his first real friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, how was it? Boring? Should I have begun the main part after all? Well, now it is done.  
> Please read and review :-) Your comments always make my day!
> 
> Oh, and I know the numeration of the chapters is off. I found the problem but not how to solve it yet^^


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK... This chapter is lying around for two days now. I am so not Happy with it, but I can't figure out why. I have the feeling I move too slowly and its getting boring and at the same time I want to discribe a good development between our two main characters. Anyway, here comes their first meeting. I hope you don't expect love on first sight.
> 
> And thank you again to all my great reviewers! I am so amazed how many reviews I get! You guys are the best!
> 
> JSG

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter or Marvel characters. All rights belong to the authors, comic artists and WB. 

 

Chapter 7:

 

Loki growled in frustration. Three months! Three months of combing the gardens and wide halls of the palace and still he had not found the Skapa. And that, even though he had felt his seidr almost daily. 

 

The Jötun must have started to practice his seidr actively again. He had clearly given in to the demands of his power. Still, no wild tales about strange happenings or pranks had started to go around, which meant his little target was still hiding. Surprisingly good as well, after all, he was a master of seidr and practicing for many millennia, it took a lot to hoodwink him. 

 

It frustrated him to no end. He could feel the tension that had gathered inside of him in every stiff muscle of his neck and back. With every week he wasn’t successful, more of his people died. He needed a distraction. Maybe clearing his head, even for only one afternoon, would help him concentrate better on his search.

 

What he needed was a new approach to solve this annoying riddle, however, he could practically feel the blockage in his mind. 

 

He smirked to himself, making a few nearby soldiers quicken their steps. This was the perfect time to spend his beloved step-brother a short visite. Nothing distracted him as much as teasing the great thunderer.

 

If he remembered correctly, he would find him at the old training ground at this time of day, training that useless peace-hostage of their mother. 

 

________________________________________________________________________

 

Panting, Harry pushes his spear into the ground. He was getting better, only gradually though. In contrast to his healing abilities, which had grown in leaps and bounds, he barely managed to dodge Thor. His abilities to land a hit was even more pathetic.

 

“Do not pause, my friend! I know you can handle another round!” Thor’s voice boomed somewhere in front of him.

 

“No, I don’t,” he rejects. 

 

Maybe it had been stupid to stay awake the whole night, but he had wanted to make himself familiar with the night shifts at the hospital. This way he could sneak in and help people and had a chance to keep his magic a secret a while longer. 

 

“Cheer up, Midgardson! You are getting better!” Thor’s voice interrupted his musing once again. 

 

He made a face at Thor’s obvious attempt to cheer him up. The Thunderer had his heart in the right place, but he was as subtle as a rock. Or like Ron had been, but he hated that comparison. Thon didn’t deserve to be compared to the other redhead. As far as he knew, the Odinson was not prone to jealousy in the slightest, in contrast to his former best friend.  
Thor in comparison was almost cute in his clumsy subtleness.

 

He shook his head in denial. “Not today. I am sorry.” 

 

Looking up, he saw that Thor had paused to look at him more closely.  
“Rough day at the Hospital?”   
Thankful for the excuse, Harry shrugged apologetically.

 

“My friend, you have a busy schedule. I wouldn’t wish to exchange places with you,” Thor said and sheathed his sword. “And I am saying that as a crown prince of Asgard.”

 

Harry chuckled tiredly as he let himself flop down in the grass.   
It had become a tradition by now that they would eat something after each training before Harry departed for his next shift in the hospital or library. By now they had become something like friends, Although, Harry still hesitated to call the crown prince his friend. It somehow too daring, even though the Thunderer greeted him whenever they met in the endless hallways of the palace, which didn’t happen all too often, admittedly. 

 

“Say, Midgardson, why do I never see you in the breakfast hall? I understand that your lunchtime is short, but you surely have enough time in the morning?” Thor suddenly asked, sitting down across of him.

 

Startled, Harry looked up, before shrugging.   
“I don’t know anyone I could join there. Clematis wasn’t there the few times I went there and I don’t really get along with my other classmates,” he explained truthfully. Maybe more truthfully than he actually should have.

 

Thor frowned and looked sad for a moment.  
“The valor of healers is greatly underestimated. Especially in the mind of the students who have not yet seen a battle and needed a healer to patch them up again. However, it is not correct that there would be no one you could join.”

 

Confused, Harry searched for the right words. He didn’t feel comfortable to contradict the Thunderer so openly. 

 

“You hurt me deeply, my friend!” Thor exclaimed and Harry jumped in surprise.   
“Do you not believe that I would not invite you to my table?”  
Now, he was truly lost for words. Was Thor truly proposing he should sit and dine with the royal family? That was absurd. And terrifying. 

 

Thor snorted.   
“Don’t worry, Midgardson. I do not eat with my parents when it isn’t a huge banquet. I sit with my friends. The Lady Sif, Fandral, Hogun, and Volstagg.”

 

Still feeling unsure (and honestly uncomfortable at the idea), Harry shook his head again.   
“I doubt I would fit…” he began, but Thor cut him off.  
“Nonsense. My friends are nice people. They will welcome you openly.”  
The Thunderer nodded to himself for a moment, before adding with a delighted grin. “Good. Then it is decided.”

 

Harry wasn’t quite sure they had decided anything, but said nothing and just nodded in polite agreement while his stomach made a nervous flip. However, before he could worry, even more, Thor unwrapped the bundle he had brought and said:  
“Now eat. Wouldn’t want to hear you collapsing on one of your patients.”

 

He took one of the slices of bread and spread some butter onto it. He really wasn’t feeling like eating cheese. At least not the strong smelling and tasting one the Aesir preferred. Maybe he should invite Clematis over again. This way he would maybe be able to enjoy some honey-cakes and fruits again. If only the thought wouldn’t raise his bad conscience so much. 

 

“Mother has the highest praises for you. One day I will come by and visit you at the hospital. It is not often that she mentions someone so often. Especially outside her circle of seidre masters.”

 

Unsure what to respond, Harry smiled shily. “Thanks.”   
It was nice to hear some nice words for a chance. His classmates were still glaring at him. Maybe even worse than ever. They were jealous that he got private lessons from the beloved crown prince after being so pathetic during their classes. 

 

“You will get used to our world and find more friends. Try to talk to your colleagues at the hospital,” Thor hummed between two bites.

 

Harry just nodded again. The problem was, that Lady Aya had practically separated him from his fellow apprentices. She was promoting him. It was an honor, he knew that, but it had made him once again an outsider once again. Not that he would ever openly complain. Maybe, one day he would meet someone as nice as Clematis there as well. That was at least what he hoped. 

 

“I actually have to go to the library next,” he said in order to change the topic.  
“You work there as well?” Thor questioned with a disbelieving look on his face.  
“I had to choose more than one elective. I thought that maybe I would understand my new world better if I learn more about the different cultures, so I picked Runes and Languages of the Realm as well.”  
“I assumed, as Lady Aya is integrating you so much you would specialize in healing. My brother did that with his seidr studies,” Thor hummed thoughtfully.  
Harry shrugged. “Seidr surely is much more complex than a bit of basic healing, sorting books and learning vocabularies.”  
“Maybe. Seidr is a book with seven seals for me,” Thor admitted, sounding rather sheepish.  
“I bet it’s the same as with any other subject; you just have to learn. Although, talent might be a big part of seidr as well.”

 

He could feel the heat rising to his cheeks. Why was this conversation so awkward? It was as if the Thunderer knew something and waited for him to admit to it.  
He opened his mouth again, even though he had no idea what he should add, however, a cold and far too smooth sounding voice interrupted him.

 

“If this isn’t my dear brother with our mother’s newest pet-project.”

 

Thor’s head whipped around and his eyes narrowed.   
Having never seen such an expression on the Aesir’s face, Harry blinked and turned around as well. The man his eyes landed on wasn’t quite what he had expected, even though he hadn’t expected anything. But if he had then probably one of the Thunderer’s soldier-friends.

 

But the Aesir standing casually leaned against the low fence surrounding the training ground was tall, taller even than Thor if he wasn’t mistaken, but not the least bit muscled. His high cheekbones, straight nose, strong jaw, sharp gaze, and arrogant smirk reminded him of Lucius Malfoy, however, the man’s skin was pale and sallow, just like Snape’s. He could have been attractive without that little flaw, however, as it was, he looked pale in a sickly kind of way. Like someone who spends far too many hours inside, pouring over books in dusty libraries. 

 

“Brother, what brings you here?” 

 

Harry’s eyes widened and his eyes flickered back over to the stranger. He had heard many silently whispered stories about Thor’s brother. About his magical talent and his shape-shifting abilities. 

 

He couldn’t suppress the curiosity rising inside of him. He had never met someone with a talent similar to his. Although, he suspected that Loki’s shape-shifting was different than his. 

 

“Am I not allowed to spend my brother a visite?” Loki’s smirked and the expression reminded Harry far too much of his late godfather to feel comfortable.   
Thor just snorted. “So you are bored. Has the library finally run out of books you haven’t read yet?”  
“That will probably take me another few hundred years, however, my current research-subjects turned out to be more difficult than I suspected. I just needed some distraction,” Loki mused, crossing one of his long legs over the other, his smirk widening.

 

Averting his eyes, Harry frowned. There was something about the other Prince of Asgard he immediately disliked. The arrogance and drawling, bored voice reminded him far too much of the Malfoy. And there was something cold in the Aesir’s eyes that made him shiver. As if he was capable of a lot of things.   
“A subject that is beyond your capabilities?” Thor mocked, standing up and dusting his tunic off.

 

“I would not say that the subject is beyond my capabilities. It just… always slips through my fingers.”  
Thor just snorted again. “And there I thought you were one to appreciate a good challenge. Did you not complain about the lack of good challenges recently?”   
“That was a century ago, brother. But you are correct. And it will be all the more rewarding once I solve this little puzzle of mine. However, for the time being, I have just hoped for a little show. Some comedy, maybe? I have heard so many funny stories about your little pupil.”

 

Harry’s head shot up again and he threw the other prince a glare. However, all that it earned him was a low chuckle.  
“A fierce one, I see,” Loki hummed mockingly, just before Thor stepped in front of him.  
“I have to disappoint you, then. We have finished for today and you better leave him in peace. Midgardson has done nothing to deserve your pranks and I will not allow it.”

 

Loki lifted his hands in surrender, however, Harry wouldn’t buy it for one second. This scene just felt too familiar. It was just like back at Hogwarts whenever a Gryffindor and a Slytherin met in the corridors. 

 

“Fine, fine. I will even promise you. No touching mother’s little pet project.”

 

Thor didn’t seem to believe his brother as well, because his eyes narrowed again.  
“You better Hurry, Midgardson, or you will be too late for your duties in the library. And don’t forget to come to the breakfast hall tomorrow.”

 

Nodding, Harry hastily got up and hurried first past one and then the other prince of Asgard. Fortunately, Loki didn’t even spare him a sideways glance. He could practically feel the tension drain from him as soon as he was out of sight. 

 

That man was dangerous. But he had known that before. Every good wizard or sorcerer was dangerous. Only, Loki was intelligent as well and those were probably the most dangerous of all. Especially for Harry, with his wish to stay hidden and out of trouble. He just would have to be cautious around the prince. However, with a bit of luck, he would only rarely see. 

 

He pushed the thoughts out of his mind and quickened his pace. He was probably already almost too late to his shift and he needed to stop by his room and clean up a bit. He couldn’t appear sweaty and smelly in front of Lady Skye or he would be immediately kicked out again.

 

Biting his lower lip, he looked around, checking if somebody was near. There was a way how he could save some time and get to his next selective still in time, however, no one could see him.  
Fortunately, he was still in a deserted part of the wide palace grounds and so he just slipped behind a huge bush before concentrating. 

 

He had practiced a little, just in case he would ever need it, however, only within his room and with small distances. Spinning on the spot, he prayed that he wouldn’t splinch himself in a realm where no one had ever heard of apparation and disappeared. 

 

The familiar sensation as if he was squeezed through a straw grabbed him, only that it lasted longer this time. A second later he breathed a sigh of relief when he felt the ground reappear under his feet again. Opening his eyes, he saw that everything had gone perfectly, he had landed exactly where he wanted. 

 

He would have thanked whatever god had watched over him, but ever since he had entered Asgard and practiced with the god Thor on nearly a daily basis, his view about religion had shifted once more. Not that he had been a religious man before, but now he knew that they were just as human and flawed and prone to mistakes and misfortune as everybody else as well. 

 

Instead, he just dashed into his little bathroom, grabbed a small towel and walked back to the bowl of soap water that was still left from earlier this morning. Pulling his tunic off, he quickly washed, then redressed and apparated again.

 

This time he reappeared in the small storeroom close to the library doors.

 

Exams were finally over and the library was once again quiet and peaceful. Only a few Aesir were waiting in front of the counter as he entered and walked to the little office where he always met up with Clematis. 

 

“I almost thought you would be too late,” his friend greeted him.   
“Me? Never!” Harry grinned cheekily, before motioning to the main room.  
“Let’s just start. Today is quiet, this should be an easy shift.”  
Clematis nodded. “If you want I can quiz you on your Elvish and Fairish again,” he offered.

 

Greatfull, Harry nodded. Clematis had started to quiz him after he had learned that Harry was studying Runes and languages as well. As one of the princes of Muspelheim’s fairy nation, he had been taught in several languages as well. However, Harry’s lectures had started with lavish and Fairish as it was a related language. The exam was in three weeks, after that the main focus would shift to other languages and he had to continue with his studies for the first two on his own for the time being. 

 

The Runes and Languages course concentrated on the very basics first and only would delve deeper into the subject once he had been introduced to each one of them. 

 

He wasn’t quite sure what this concept was aiming for, but complaining wouldn’t help him anyway, so he just went with it and hoped that he would understand it in time. 

 

They fetched the cart with the returned books and made their way to the first section. They usually started with the one dealing with war strategies, as that was what most Aesir were studying. After that, they would continue with diplomacy, which was the second biggest post. 

 

“Hous?” Clematis began as no student was in sight.   
“Car or Opele.”  
“Warrior?”  
“Maethor or Ohtatimearo.”

 

They continued like this for about half an hour, before clematis got bored and began him to quiz him on grammar and sentence structure and finally, as they had resorted all books and helped the few students that were hunched over ancient tomes and scrolls, he sat Harry down and dictated him a few sentences to check his runes knowledge.

 

“Why don’t you go to the market and get yourself some fruits and cakes?” Clematis asked during their prolonged lunch break as he noticed Harry staring once again hungrily as his care package.  
“There is a merchant from Muspelheimr. I always get my cakes from him.”  
Shaking his head, Harry asked: “Where do you get the money from for those things?”  
“From my father. But he also has a standing order for me. I can just go to my countryman and fetch it,” his friends answered between two bites of apple.  
“I have no one who sends me money or care-packages. Even before I came to Asgard by some sort of accident, my parents were dead. My schooling here is more an education-and-lodging-for-work deal.”

 

He instantly regretted his words when he saw the shocked expression on his friend’s face and cursed inwardly. He should by now remember that the fairy was kind of sensitive with some topics.  
“Your parents are dead? Since when? Was it recently? Oh, I am so sorry… my sincerest condolences. May they find their way into Walhalla’s halls.”

 

Lifting his hands, he tried to calm his friend down once more.  
“Thanks but it’s ok. They died a long time ago when I was only one year old. I never knew them.”

 

Clematis sniffled suspiciously, but nodded and took a deep breath before changing the topic.  
“Your arrival here was an accident? Was it a disfunction of the Bifröst?”  
“I don’t know,” Harry answered honestly. He hated to lie to the honest fairy. “All I remember is that I fell unconscious and when I awoke, I was in one of the palace gardens.” 

 

Well, but keeping some parts of the story to himself was luckily no lie.

 

“The Norns must have important plans for you than to bring you here,” Clematis mused thoughtfully.  
Harry just winced inwardly. He dearly hoped his friend was wrong. He had been part enough of big and important plans to last him an eternity.

 

“But,” Clematis interrupted his train of thoughts, “why haven’t you said anything before? I can ask father to order more for me and give you some.”  
Harry’s eyes widened. “That isn’t necessary. I have gotten used to the Asgardian diet.”  
He didn’t feel comfortable with accepting pittances.  
“But it's fine. I don’t mind and my father won’t either,” Clematis retorted.

 

Harry still wasn’t convinced. It just felt too much like finally doing what his aunt and uncle had always accused him of.

 

“Since I came here… no, even before that, my father was worried because I never had any close friends. It is difficult for a crown prince to find true friends. He will be joyous to provide you with some cakes.”

 

When Clematis saw his hesitant expression, he threw his hands in the air.   
“That’s it. You are one of those who need to be forced to your happiness! I will write father today.”

 

Harry sighed inwardly. What was it with people believing they need to help him even if he didn’t need or want them?  
“But not many, ok?” he gave up.  
Clematis just rolled his eyes, before pointing out: “We should return to the library.”

 

________________________________________________________________________

 

Harry’s wand vibrated beneath his pillow. It was the only thing he still used it for with the dense magic on Asgard.

 

Groaning, he blinked his eyes open. Why had he decided to do this? He was still dead tired. The day had been long, the nights before that short. Maybe he should have granted him one night of rest, but now he was awake anyway. So he pushed himself up, kicked his duvet off and made his way over to the wardrobe. 

 

Scanning his small assortment of tunics, he decided to dress in one of those for the hospital. If he got caught, maybe he could claim that he belonged to the night staff.   
He pocketed the bottles of blood-replenisher which he had managed to brew successfully, as well, before getting ready.

 

He had found an unobtrusive spot behind the hospital and once he was ready, he apparated there.   
No one was in sight as he landed, just like those times he had checked out the spot. It was just around the corner, however, no one ever had a reason to venture so far away from the entrance hall and the wards.

 

He stepped out from behind the bushes and onto the narrow path that led back to the front. The night air was still rather warm, but no midnight-wanderer was in sight. The night posts stood far away, around the many entrances to the palace.  
The entrance hall was still illuminated, but it as well was deserted. 

 

He had studied the rounds of the night staff well enough that he knew that the nurses and healers were currently in the staff room, drinking tea and trying to relax until their next round.

 

He could hear muffled chatter and laughter from upstairs, however, this night the upper levels were not his destination. Not that the patients there didn’t require healing, but those on the ground floor were in much worse condition. 

 

Fortunately there weren’t many of those unfortunate soldiers right now, however, for those who were there, the chances were mostly not very good or they would have been transferred to a different ward after their treatment already. 

 

The door was heavy and creaked slightly as he pushed it carefully opened. He took care to let it slide back close softly so that no one would be alarmed from the loud, echoing bang.

 

Once the door was closed, he turned and took the hallway in front of him in. The Asgardian Hospital was generally not the most comfortable place, with his huge multiple-beds halls and practically no privacy. However, the intensive care ward was even more unpleasant. 

 

Maybe it was only the atmosphere because the patience laid silently and mostly unmovingly in their beds. Most of them were pail as ghosts, due to blood loss and barely breathing. Only sometimes one of them coughed. It was an unpleasant, gurgling sound as if the man was drowning. And if Harry remembered correctly, it was close to the truth. A spear had pierced the dwarf’s chest and despite how tough they were, a punctured lung was even life-threatening for them. 

 

That was the first bed he now turned to.   
If possible, the dwarf looked even worse than the day prior. Not wanting to waste any more time, he looked around for the few items he needed. He didn’t need much, his magic would do the most work. Grabbing the kidney dish, he pulled it closer, before concentrating on his magic. 

 

He took a deep, calming breath. It was important for healing that his magic was calm and soothing. At least that was how the books had described it. It couldn’t be violent or even energetic, or he would worsen his patience injury. That was the part that worried him the most. He usually was very energetic. 

 

However, he had meditated a lot and felt his magic calm down rather quickly. Not as quickly as he had managed in his room, but that wasn’t a surprise with the fear of getting caught constantly in the back of his mind. 

 

But no worrisome sound reached his ears and once he felt ready, he lifted his wand hand to let it hover over the dwarf’s chest. 

 

That had been the most difficult part while practicing on Asgard. Like with every other spell, there were wand movements to learn it. It was somewhat easier to practice a well-known spell without a ward than picking a new one up completely without that crotch, he had found out. But at some point it had clicked, probably thanks to the dense magic on the planet. 

 

He poured his magic into his patience and directed it to the injured lung. It took a moment to find the hole, but it wasn’t too difficult. Whispering the spell, he concentrated on the wound to not miss the point when it had closed once again. Keeping the spell too long could be just as damaging as pulling away too soon. 

 

However, he was surprised how clearly he could feel the tissue grow back together. Once it was closed, he whispered a second spell before pulling his hand slowly away from the body, just like the book had instructed he should do with his wand. 

 

He smiled to himself as he saw the thin stream of blood following his movement. Directing his hand over to the kidney dish, he let it gather there. It was much more than he had imagined. No wonder that the dwarf had gained this unhealthy blue color around his lips. 

 

He vanished the content and then pooled one of the blood-replenishers from his pocket, spelling it directly into the dwarf’s stomach.   
Almost immediately the injured soldier gained some color back. 

 

He would have liked to stay a few minutes and see if his treatment was already enough to let his patience wake up again, but he contented himself with one last diagnostic before walking over to the next bed. 

 

The valkyrie laying there didn’t look much better than the dwarf had. The huge woman wasn’t moving at all and there was a thick bandage wrapped around her head. 

 

He had no idea what had happened to her, but he guessed that she had suffered from some kind of head injury. Hopefully, it would only be a normal wound, not a magical one. While magic could rather easily heal brain damage from a simple injury, those caused by magic were much more complicated and often the patients never recovered completely. Neville’s parents were the best example. 

 

He didn’t dare to take the bandage off, but his magic easily slipped through it. He was relieved to sense no magical trace and instantly began the healing. 

 

The healing from internal, none-magical injuries was always based on the same principle; to quicken the natural healing progress so that the injury would disappear before the body could suffer further. 

 

Healing, he realized, was a strange sensation. Somehow, he could sense how the cells healed beneath his touch as if his magic was an extension of his hand. A very sensitive extension. 

 

The next patience, a huge Aesir, was suffering from multiple fractured bones. Harry had no idea what could have happened to the soldier, but as he let his magic scanned his body, he realized that there was barely an unfractured bone left in his body. 

 

The last one had taken a violent hit to the stomach. Fortunately, it was the easiest injury to heal, because by now he felt more drained and tired than ever before. Still, he only managed to stabilize the man, before he had to stop for the night. 

 

Barely able to keep his eyes open, he just apparated on the spot, directly into his bed where he collapsed as soon as he hit his pillow. 

 

________________________________________________________________________

 

The next morning he felt as if a muggle-bus had rolled him over. Every muscle in his body was stiff and quivering. His tunic stuck to his skin, he must have run a fever after he had fallen asleep. His books had warned him that something like this could happen to a trainee who’s magical core was not yet used to the straining exercise. Healing was the discipline that needed the highest amount of magic. 

 

He groaned at the thought that he had to go down to the breakfast hall. For a short moment, he considered the idea to just stay in bed for a while longer and not show up, but then he would have to explain why he hadn’t come and he felt too tired to invent a good lie this morning. And Thor would ask, he just knew it.

 

Bracing himself, he propped himself up. Immediately a wave of dizziness hit him and he had to close his eyes again. he waited for the sensation to stop, before carefully opening his eyes again.

 

The room still seemed a bit blurred, but the books had said that a hardy meal should come a long way to replenish him. With that as motivation in mind, he stood up and frowned at his boots. He hadn’t even taken those off the night before. 

 

Sighing, he walked over to the bowl of hot water and undressed before sponge-bathing quickly but thoroughly. When he was finished, he redressed in one of his healer robes and then left his room. 

 

The way to the breakfast hall was as far as anything else in or around the palace. He didn’t like to go there, with the hoards of hungry soldiers heading there. Just as he thought that a hard elbow pushed harshly into his back. He grunted, the Aesir as well, but the man didn’t say something after his eyes landed on his small statue and healer robes.

 

He defiantly glared up at him but the soldier had already turned his attention elsewhere. 

 

The breakfast hall was no special place, at least not for Asgardian standards. The hall itself was the usual white marble and gold ornaments, but instead of elegant tables and chairs, there were long rows of benches made from rough wood. 

 

He looked around, trying to spot Thor and his shock of golden hair, however, with the many tall people already crowding the room and his small stature, he felt as if he was drowning in a sea of people. 

 

He was about to just turn back around and tell Thor he couldn’t find him when a loud voice boomed over the heads of everybody: “Over here, Midgardson!”

 

Looking up, he saw the Thunderer waving enthusiastically, a wide grin on his face.  
He pushed through the crowd, earning himself much-annoyed muttering, but at last, reached the table. 

 

“You came, Midgardson!” Thor greeted him.  
Harry just nodded and eyed the prince’s companions wearily. He immediately wished he had not come. They were just as tall as Thor, even the woman who sat across the Thunderer. 

 

Thor had kept a seat free for him and as he climbed onto the tall thing, he felt even smaller between them.

 

“Who is that, Thor?” One of the three men questioned and Harry wanted to glare at him as well, but held himself back, What was it with Aesir always speaking over his head? Only because he was small, didn’t mean that he was a small kid. The only problem with that argument was, that his age truly was a joke to these people as well. 

 

“This is Harry Midgardson, the student I teach currently,” Thor introduced him with a strong pat to his back that nearly knocked him headfirst into the porridge bowl in front of him.   
“The one that is so abysmal at fighting?” The one that looked like a giant, red-bearded dwarf asked.  
“The very talented healer in training, I think you mean,” Thor corrected him. 

 

“You and your softheartedness for ergi,” the woman said with a polite smile as if Harry wouldn’t know what that term meant.  
“Sif!” the giant exclaimed and Thor immediately opened his mouth to defend him, but Harry cut him to the chase:

 

“You know, my Lady,” he said with exaggerated politeness, “I also study Runes and Languages, I know what insult you just threw at me.”   
The part what a stupid thing it was to insult a healer he left unspoken. However, he was sure it didn’t go unheard because Lady Sif flushed and turned to her plate. 

 

The smaller man began to chuckle and than laughed heartily.   
“You are a feisty one! I like that! Welcome to our table, I am Fandral and these are Volstagg,” he pointed at the giant and Hogun.”  
Harry greeted them, before pulling the bowl of porridge closer. However, as he took a bite, he realized to frustration that it wasn’t sweetened and tasted rather plain.

 

“So, you are Lady Aya’s student?” The man named Hogun suddenly asked, his sharp eyes fixed on him. He made a slightly gruff, but certainly not unfriendly expression.  
“Ah…” he stuttered and lifted his hands in denial. “I don’t think so. I am no master of seidr, so I can’t really keep up with the real healers.”  
Fandral waved him off. “True, powerful seidr users are few and far in between. The normal healers are just as important. Did she already take you to surgery?”  
Harry nodded, but added: “But I only assisted a little.”  
“If you already assisted,” Volstagg said in a tone of voice that made Harry think he wanted to point something important out “and that after such a short period of training than you must be truly gifted.”

 

The others nodded in agreement, with the expectation of the Lady Sif, who still looked cross. 

 

“Tell us, Midgardson, how is our friend as a tutor?”  
Feeling uncomfortable, Harry spluttered. “Thor is a good teacher, but I fear I am a bad student.”  
“Some challenges will do him well. He has grown lazy these last decades, only training talented, young soldiers,” Volstagg rumbled with a teasing smile on his lips.

 

“I think I might be more than a challenge,” he grumbled and pushed his tasteless porridge back and forth in his bowl.  
“Don’t overestimate yourself,” Sif sniffed. “Our Thor is used to more difficult people than a little mortal.”  
“You mean Loki?” Hogun questioned, his dark eyebrows lifted.  
To Harry’s surprise, Thor immediately jumped to the defense of his brother. “Loki isn’t so bad.”

 

Hadn’t they argued just the day before? But then he remembered that Thor had already stood to the mage’s defense when he had arrived on Asgard. Ron and his brothers had also argued a lot, but whenever it really mattered, they had stood together as well. Maybe it was a sibling thing.

 

“For not so bad he insults you quite a lot. I will never understand how you can tolerate behavior like this from…. a mage,” Sif sneered, however, Harry could hear that mage was not the word she wanted to use.  
Ergi, he thought with an inward sneer. 

 

The impulse to defend magic grew inside of him, but he suppressed it with all his might. How people could even think that wizards, people who wheeled powers like Albus Dumbledore or Lord Voldemort be called effeminate only because they didn’t fight with a wand, he couldn’t understand. And he would bet, if Loki ever would use his full magical potential, they wouldn’t belittle him anymore as well.

 

And even if Loki was ergi, or liked his own sex, that still didn’t define a weak person. The best example of that truth was Dumbledore himself.   
“Why is your Midgardson glaring like this?” Volstagg interrupted his musing.  
Blinking, he looked up and saw the other’s staring at him.   
“Ah, it’s.... nothing. Just wondering how late it is… I… don’t want to be late,” he hastily lied. He wasn’t good at lying, it always made him feel uncomfortable as he had hated to be lied to by his former mentor so much, so he was glad when the warriors took it at face value. 

 

“Right, students and healers need to be on time,” Thor scratched the back of his head, before glancing outside. How he could see how late it was there, Harry couldn’t say, but shortly after he added:  
“You should better leave soon.”

 

Nodding in relieve, Harry rose to his feet. He was still hungry and tired and didn’t feel replenished at all, but he just wanted to get away. Why were uncomfortable conversations following him like this lately?

 

With one last wave, he turned around to make his way over to the Academy and afterward to the hospital.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before I forget... I have two question:
> 
> 1\. Should everybody on Asgard be aware of Loki's true nature? Or only that he is adopted? Or nothing at all?
> 
> 2\. Would you like Laufey (Loki's mother) to still be alive?
> 
>  
> 
> Now, hod did you like the chapter? Was it ok? Do you have some wishes or ideas for the next one or something at a later point? I can't promise anything, but I am open to all ideas.
> 
> Pleas r & r
> 
> :-)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good evening, I am back!
> 
> My exam went well and I finally managed to finish this chapter. I nearly finished it before the exam, but the last half a page proved to be difficult. 
> 
> I hope you will all like it, I am not quite happy with it, but I can't figure out why.   
> Also, after this chapter I will go on Hiatus for some time. I want to write a few chapters ahead, so that the pressure isn't so big when Uni gets busy again. 
> 
> JSG

Chapter 8:

 

“What are you chuckling about, my love?”  
“Nothing important, my dear,” Odin replied, his eyes never leaving the small, raven-haired figure.

 

It had taken him embarrassing long to recognize the small Midgardian. To his defense; it was always difficult to untangle the many impressions he gathered during his Odin-sleep. Only when his wife had come back with the message from the norns, had he remembered the young hero he had watched so often and so heartfelt. 

 

A powerful seidr user, just like his second son and a hero, unlike anyone he had ever seen before. Powerful, a true warrior in his field of expertise and an alert mind with which not many Asgardian soldiers could compare. A hero through and through.

 

Not even grown out of the need for a teddy bear the little mortal had been when he had first faced and chased away one of the darkest sorcerers Odin had ever had the misfortune to witness.

 

Only that the boy never had possessed a teddy bear.   
His son’s had been forced to grow up far too quickly as well, due to their status as princes to the realm, however, he had tried to spoil them as much in return as possible.

 

No one had ever spoiled the little Midgardian.   
He had housed in a cupboard like an ill behaving animal, been starved, beaten and exploited from people who should have protected him.

 

He had known immediately that the boy would be important in one way or the other. However, only now, with the stories about miraculous awoken patience and his adoptive son’s frantic search for the last Skapa did he slowly begin to realize how important he would be.

 

He chuckled again.   
Harry Potter would keep his son on his toes. More than Loki could ever foresee. It would do his overly intelligent son some good.

 

He only hoped that Loki would not be too disappointed when he found out that the person he was looking for was no Jötun or Skapa. Hopefully, he would not hold it against the boy. Unfortunately, he knew his son all too well and how he reacted to disappointment. 

 

Not that there truly would be a reason to be disappointed, because the young mage could easily do for what his son proclaimed he needed a mage and healer for.  
Only the other wish would, unfortunately, stay unfulfilled.

 

Sometimes the faith of his second son saddened him immensely. Unfortunately, as the Allfather, he always had to consider the consequences for the entire universe. And of course, he was prone to mistakes as well. Even more so when he had still been younger and less experienced. 

 

Hopefully, the little Midgardian would be able to take some of the weight which tortured his son so much off his shoulders.

 

________________________________________________________________________

 

With a loud battle cry, Harry ran towards Thor, his spear thrust forward.   
Only one hit and Thor would give him the next three days off. He suspected his tutor was getting desperate with his lack of true improvement, even though the Thunderer was friendly as ever. Or rather: was as good a friend as ever. He had admitted to that after he had realized that it had become some kind of ritual to meet every Friday for breakfast.

 

Thor grew rapidly closer, however, he hadn’t any illusion. He would never be able to land a hit. At least, not with a spear. 

 

Just at that moment, the impossible happened.  
Thor lifted his right feet as if he planned to step to the side, his red cape caught around his ankle, Thor stumbled, Harry’s spear brushed his side and the powerful prince fell to the ground with a low groan. 

 

Harry froze surprise, shock and panic erupted in his chest. He let his spear fall to the ground and rushed forwards.

 

“Thor, are you alright? Are you hurt badly? Should I call a healer?”  
Frantically, he palpated his tutor’s back, trying to sense any injury.  
Thor grunted and shifted, but before he could give him any answer a low, evil-sounding chuckle made him freeze.

 

The laughter grew louder until it had developed into a full belly-laugh.   
“Do not fret, little mortal. My brother is unharmed.”

 

Harry’s head whipped around and his eyes landed on a tall, pale figure leaning once against the fence of their training ground. 

 

“Loki!” Thor growled and pushed himself up.  
Loki merely snickered some more. “It seems to me, dear brother, you will have to grand your little student an early weekend.”  
“Harry is honorable. He would not cheat like this,” Thor retorted and pushed himself up. However, the cape was still stuck to his ankle and as he tried to straighten, he stumbled once more. 

 

“Cease this childishness, Loki!” Thor snapped, clearly annoyed.  
“Childishness? You do me great injustice. I only wish to add some excitement to your challenging lecture,” Thor’s brother smirked.

 

Harry wanted to roll his eyes. He was feeling like back at Hogwarts when the annoying prat Draco Malfoy had shown up to taunt him. Only this time he was merely the bystander. It didn’t make it any better.

 

Thor merely continued to glare at his brother.  
Loki chuckled again. “You have to admit that this is not challenging.”  
“It doesn’t mean I am bored. Harry is a good kid, he deserves our help,” the Thunderer interjected.  
“Certainly. Why else would he get such special treatment? But I am not here to talk about some peace-hostage.”  
“Not. You are here to cause a mishap. However, we have no time for this now. Harry needs to leave for his selective soon and we still need to repeat the defense movements,” Thor glared again, making Loki lift his hands in a mock-soothing gesture.

 

“Fine. If you are unable to appreciate my attempts, I will just stay here and watch silently.”  
“That does not reassure me, brother,” Thor huffed. “And now lift your spell.”  
Loki snapped his fingers and the red cape finally let go of its owner.

 

Thor turned back to Harry, suspicion still written all over his face. Harry couldn’t resent him for it. He didn’t quite trust the God of Mishap to not hex them again. 

 

“Let’s end this quickly,” Thor told him and he began with the repetition of the basic defensive movements.

 

He nodded, grateful to get out of his embarrassing training. He was still so useless at this. The fact that a third party was watching didn’t help his performance any. His body felt stiffer than at any time before.

 

Lifting his spear, he swung it, but caught with the end on the ground and stumbled backward. Snickering reached his ears and he flushed even more. Still, he tried to ignore it and moved into the next position. 

 

“Very elegant. A true artist amongst soldiers,” Loki mocked in the background.   
“At least he tries. When was the last time you trained your sword-skills?” Thor snapped over his shoulder. 

 

“I am sure he will be a great asset to every battle.”

 

Ignoring the electric itching in his fingers, Harry tried to ignore the sneering voice and just keep going. However, the impulse to hex the nuisance was strong.

 

“Only three left,” Thor informed him and he quickly moved through two more positions. 

 

“You were correct dear brother, I think he is getting better… in about a millennia, maybe.”

 

Gritting his teeth, he swiftly finished the last position before ramming his spear into the ground.

 

“I… I am sorry, but I think I have to hurry now. I fear I am already too late to my shift at the hospital.”

 

He needed to get far away from the second prince or he would do something he would regret later. How could someone be so despicable? He didn’t understand what people like this Loki had from going around and just insulting people they didn’t even know. 

 

Thor gave him a grim nod of silent understanding.   
Shortly, Harry wondered how the Thunderer could stand to have someone like this as his brother and how two people with the same parents could turn out so differently. One charming and spirited and the other just cold and spiteful. 

 

“I will see you tomorrow for breakfast then. Do not forget, my friend,” Thor patted his shoulder as he passed, but all Harry could get out at that moment was a silent nod. All that held his magic back was his determination and the tight grip on his powers. 

 

He quickened his pace and tried to push all his excess energy into the motion. He couldn’t believe that he still had to deal with people like this. He was miles and miles away from his home planet and still, someone managed to chanal Draco Malfoy’s spirit and annoy the hell out of him. How far would he have to go to not have to deal with these shit anymore?

 

Slowly, as the hospital came into view, he calmed down. Apparently, his tactic was working. Slowing down, he took one last calming breath of air and tried fruitlessly to smooth his hair down before stepping into the entrance hall.

 

For a split second, he wanted to turn to the left, into the direction of the intensive care unite, but he managed to stop himself before someone could notice. This sneaking around was driving him insane. Not only was he missing far too much sleep, but he also automatically wanted to check on his patients the next morning. Which he, of course, couldn’t do. 

 

He began to climb the staircase to the second floor, his legs protesting with every step. The ward was fairly empty as he crossed it to reach the little changing room. Two of the older healers were currently getting ready as well as he entered. 

 

He greeted them shortly before going over to his locker where he always kept at least one clean tunic. 

 

“She was here again,” he heard one of the healers say as he pulled his tunic over his head.   
“Truly? How do you know?” The other questioned and Harry froze still with his head stuck in his sweaty training shirt.  
“Lady Aya herself mentioned it during breakfast. You remember that poor guy with the poisoned arrow?”  
The second healer nodded.  
“Yesterday afternoon his liver values were more than critical, but today they are better than most soldiers. You know how much they like to drink?” 

 

Harry finally managed to pull his head out, but couldn’t stop to listen. He knew it was risky, but he was just too curious. Not even an intergalactic journey had driven that weakness from him. Besides, it was making him nervous that people had started to talk about him and he wanted to know if they were close to discovering him. 

 

“Do you truly think its a woman?” The second healer suddenly asked and he relaxed a bit. Just stupid rumors. Annoying, but not dangerous.  
“We only have female healers currently,” the other shrugged.  
“But why should she hide? With that skill, she could easily become as respected as Lady Aya herself. Do you not think it would make much more sense to hide if our guardian angel were male?”  
“That would mean a male sorcerer and you know the only male sorcerer in our realm is Prince Loki.”  
“I think it still would make the most sense. He…”  
The first healer cut her colleague off. “It would not. That would mean he possesses a heart for something else than his troublesome pranks.”

 

The statement made Harry frown. Not that he couldn’t agree, but it seemed cruel from an adult.

 

“But that could be the reason!” The other exclaimed. “Maybe he fears for his reputation! even if it is a bad one…”

 

“You read to many sappy novels,” the first healer huffed and grabbed her colleague at her sleave. 

 

HE quickly grabbed one of his fresh tunics and pulled it over his head.

“Oh, good afternoon Midgardson. Have you been here the whole time?”  
“I said hello when I came in. I didn’t mean to listen,” he reflexively excused himself, his nervousness shooting through the roof. HAd he been discovered after all? Had been this obvious? 

 

Back at Hogwarts, he has had no problems to be secretive, but here on Asgard, he was a nervous wreck.  
The older healer chuckled. “No need to be embarrassed. We all want to find out where the guardian angel is. Do you think it could be prince Loki?” She questioned with a sideways look to the other woman, who now flushed.   
Speechless, Harry just shook his head.   
“See, he thinks it’s ridiculous as well.”

 

With that the two healers left, leaving a nervously shaking Harry behind.   
He definitively needed to calm down. 

 

It took him a few seconds but finally managed to slow his heart rate down and finished to change. Sighing, he finally left the changing room and looked for Lady Aya.

“There you are Harry,” Lady Aya said as Harry had finally found her next to the bed of an injured student who had broken her leg during weapons practice. She had started to call him by his first name after Harry had assisted her during the surgery.

 

“Shall I just start with beds?”  
Lady Aya shook her head. “Today you will assist me with another surgery. Or to be more precise, I will assist you with your first one.”

 

Harry’s heart missed a beat. He, doing surgery? On his own?  
“Come, follow me. The patient is stable but we shouldn’t leave him suffering. And don’t forget your medical back.”

 

Nodding, Harry quickly grabbed his bag and followed Lady Aya.   
His bag was his second achievement since the horrible surgery. First was, of course, his new position as Lady Aya’s personal student. The second was the bag with all the necessary medical items he needed and a selection of simple potions he had to keep stock himself and more complex ones which he got from the hospital’s apothecary and only needed to be able to recognize. At least so far he only needed to be able to recognize them, although Lady Aya had told him she would teach him how to brew those as well soon. 

 

He followed Lady Aya back downstairs and into one of the smaller surgery rooms. A huge soldier was already lying on the surgery table, muttering under his breath.

 

“Finally!” He exclaimed once he heard them enter.

 

It was one of the older soldiers, a veteran probably. The shaft of an arrow was peaking out of his lower abdomen. Someone had shortened the thing already, probably to make the transport of the man easier. 

 

Harry looked at the wound. Not much blood was leaking out. He knew that such an injury wasn’t immediately deadly, especially when so little blood leaked out. 

 

“You know what to do?” Lady Aya asked and Harry nodded, before addressing the Aesir.  
“How are you feeling?”  
The veteran shrugged. “Had worse. But it would still be nice if the thing could be removed.”  
Nodding, Harry opened his bag and pulled a dark blue potion out.   
“If you would drink this, we can start immediately.”

 

He handed the narcotic potion over and waited for the soldier to drink it and fall asleep. It only took seconds. He checked the Aesir’s puls and found it slow but steady.

 

“Very good so far,” Lady Aya reassured him. “What is the next step?”

 

“Removing the arrow,” he answered automatically.

 

“How?” Lady Aya questioned.

 

Carefully, Harry grabbed the shaft of the arrow and tucked very gently on it. It didn’t budge. If he pulled it out like this, he would only rip the wound open further.  
“I can’t just pull it out like this,” he said.

 

“No,” his tutor nodded and then began to explain. “You need to make two small cuts. However, be careful to not cut too deeply. There is a layer of fat and muscles that you can cut through if necessary. However, beneath there is the big intestine.”

 

Nodding, Harry pulled one of his scalpels out and placed it directly at the wound. He glanced over to his tutor who nodded silently.   
Taking a deep breath, he concentrated on keeping his hand steady before cutting into the flesh. 

 

His heart raced, but his hand didn’t shake. A small trickle of blood welled out but the cut didn’t need to belong, half an inch would be enough.   
Lifting the scalpel again, he held it out for someone to take, there always were assisting nurses during surgery.

 

Someone took it and he grabbed the shaft again. This time as he pulled, it moved easily. However, he didn’t pull it out quite yet.  
“Someone hand me a sterilized cloth,” he ordered almost inaudible, but someone must have heard him. A cloth was pressed into his hand and he grabbed it tightly before finally pulling the arrow out. 

 

Someone immediately took it from him as well, leaving him free to press the cloth to the wound.  
“Someone prepare a needle with the sturdy yarn that resolves only after 10 weeks.”

 

Normally a yarn that lasted 6 to 8 weeks would be enough, but the wound was in a place that got strained easily. Additionally, the patient was a soldier. Soldiers were known to put far too much strain onto their wounds far too soon.

 

As soon as the needle was pressed into his hand, he lifted the cloth and began to sew the wound closed. Once he was finished, he used another cloth to clean the Aesir’s stomach and spread a disinfecting salve the newly closed injury. 

 

For a second he stared at his still sleeping patient, before remembering that he wasn’t alone in the room and that his tutor was still watching him.

 

“You did very well. As expected,” Lady Aya said once he turned around.   
“Now clean up and take a short break. Then you can continue with your rounds.”

 

Nodding, Harry walked over to the big basin and began to thoroughly clean his hands and arms. Once finished, he made his way to the break room. It was empty as expected at this time of day. Mostly, the healers of the night shift used it whenever they didn’t need to check on their patients. 

 

However, he didn’t mind the quietness and poured himself a glass of water before sitting down. Once he had downed it, he placed it to the side and closed his eyes for a second. The surgery had neither been overly complicated nor long, still, after his short night’s rest and the hard training with Thor, he was exhausted. 

 

The only thing he wanted to do was lay down and sleep until the sun rose the next day, however, that would be suspicious. Besides, he couldn’t do that to his colleagues. Everyone working in a hospital was generally at least slightly stressed, even without the extra work from someone who went onto an unexpected sick-leave. 

 

Rubbing his tired eyes, he pushed himself up again, placed his empty glass next to the small sink that hung in one corner and then left for his patients. The first bed on his usual round was currently occupied by a small boy who had just started with his sword fight lessons, courtesy of the four years old ambitious father. Well, at least the boy looked like four years old, however, Harry was sure he was much older than that. Aesir aged much slower than Midgardians after all.

 

Noticing that the dressing on the boy’s injured leg had been changed, he smiled at the child and asked:  
“Has someone checked on you already?”

 

The boy nodded. “Healer Astrid was here. She gave me an apple,” he smiled and pointed at the core which was the only part left of the fruit.   
Harry smiled at him. “Was it good.”  
The boy nodded. “It was very sweet. Sweeter than father’s stupid green apples.”  
“Those are sour, I know,” Harry agreed and ruffled the child’s hair. “I have to go now. But your father and mother should be here soon,” he said with a glance at the big clock that hung across the room.  
The boy nodded and reached for the small picture book that lay on his bedside table.

 

Walking to the next bed, he could already see from a few steps as well that someone had been there as well. Frowning, he turned around and looked for Healer Astrid. In Asgardian terms, she was only a few years his senior. He had only worked with her a couple of times before, their shifts rarely matched but she had always been friendly.

 

Considering that she was a valkyrie, it wasn’t difficult to spot her. She heading for the nurses’ room.  
“HEaler Astrid!” He called out and hurried after her as she came to a halt and turned around.  
“Midgardson, do you need something?”   
Shaking his head, he explained: “I just wanted to start my rounds and noticed that my patients' dressings looked very fresh. Could it be that someone has taken care of them already.”  
Healer Astrid flushed a little and nodded. “I was not sure how long your surgery would take, so I checked on them. Besides, I noticed that your potions stock is fairly depleted, so I thought that even if the surgery would not take long, you could need the additional time.”

 

Smiling gratefully, Harry thanked her. “Thanks. I just wanted to make sure.”  
The other healer nodded. “True, better than forgetting any of them. Especially those who need pain-medicine. It happened to me once, when I was still in training. It was a big soldier I forgot, but he was crying from the pain of his injury when I finally checked on him in the evening.”

 

He thanked her again before, as suggested, following Healer Agnes into the nurses' room. Each healer had a shelf in a lockable cupboard where they kept their potions. Healer Astrid had been right, his stock was almost empty. Only two minor pain potions and a small portion of burn salve were left. 

Making a mental list, he left the nurses’ room again and made his way up to the third floor where the apothecary, the storerooms and brewing rooms were located. 

The hospital’s storage was much nicer than the one in Snape’s potions classroom. They were spacious and well lit, not so gloomy that one barely could read the labels on the jars and boxes. 

 

Grabbing one of the trolleys that stood to the side, he began to put the ingredients he needed onto it. He would probably have not enough time to brew all of his potions, but two at least he should manage. 

 

Once he had gathered everything, he checked the ingredients one last time, before pulling the trolley behind him. He crossed through the room, his mind already occupying on organizing the potions he would need to brew in the best order. The easier ones, he should be able to brew parallel. At least two at a time. 

 

Absentmindedly, he reached for the handle, pulling the storage door open once more.  
In the next moment, he collided with something hard and unyielding.  
“I am sorry…” he began, his cheeks heating in embarrassment, however, a cold, arrogant voice cut his apology of.  
“Who dares to…”

 

Harry’s eyes flickered up and the previously felt embarrassment made way for annoyance. 

Hadn’t one meeting not been enough for the day?  
His embarrassed expression changed into a frown and he hissed: “You.”

 

Knowing that it wasn’t a good idea to start an argument with the second prince, he sighed and stepped to the side, intend on just getting far away from the situation. However, Thor’s brother seemed to have a different idea, because he smoothly stepped sideways as well, cutting his way off.  
________________________________________________________________________

 

“Yes!” Loki exclaimed.   
A triumphant smirk tucked at his lips.   
He had been correct, all he had needed was a short break to clear his head.

 

With this spell, it would only be a matter of time until he finally tracked the Skapa down. 

 

It once more proved that even with a sorceress as queen, Jötunheimr would always be the more experienced and accomplished at seidre. The book holding the spell was one of the very few Odin had brought from Jötenheimr to Asgard, as spoils of war and a present for his mother. 

 

It consisted of a potion and an enchantment and would create a map that showed all magical activities. It would not show him the location of the Skapa directly, but every person followed a certain pattern in their life and with a map it would be much easier to locate seidr that was not performed in the hospital or the Queen’s Halls of Seidr.

 

He scanned the potion recipe one final time, making sure he had memorized each ingredient and instruction correctly. Rising to his feet, he put the old tome away and exited the library, intending to go directly to the hospital and plunder their stores for the ingredients he needed. 

 

He felt a giddiness as he imagined finally locating his precious target and absentmindedly wondered, what character the Skapa would be.   
Asgardian submissives (women) were spineless, timid creatures. Regardless of how strong they were on the battlefield or how accomplished in their chosen craft, they always were subservient to their husbands.

 

In the decades before the great war against Asgard, Skapa (and seidr users) had been pushed into a similar role. It had been expression of the perverted fantasies of Farbauti, Loki’s sire. 

 

However, naturally, Skapa were no submissive creatures. Their submission only expressed itself in the bedroom and through their ability to carry litters, a gift they had been revered for. This view as well had changed under Farbauti. The Sterkr had started to view the act of child carrying as something that weakened the Skapa, even though there barely any miscarriages or deaths at birth known in Jötun history.

 

Skapa did not show to an extant as female Aesir and only fairly late in their incubating period They had worked in the same areas as the Sterkr and been equal in every right. The only period of something that came close to gender-specific treatment occurred during a Skapa’s heat and when the date of the delivery grew nearer which generally was a period no longer than two weeks at the most. 

 

He hoped that, whoever had brought this Skapa up, had raised him with the old values. He didn’t doubt that the Jötun was still unmated, otherwise, he would not be hiding in a realm where (for all people were aware of) no other Jötun lived. 

 

Which meant he would be free to cord and Loki doubt that he could stand a shy creature for the rest of eternity. even though he would try to mate him anyway. As the last of the royal line of Jötunheimr, he had the highest right.

 

Thinking about courtship, however, reminded him that he should travel to Jötunheimr soon and check on the nest in his private chamber. The laws in Jötunheimr were of such a nature that Skapa could reject a courtship, regardless of the rang or strength of the courting Sterkr, which did not even exclude the king.

 

It was, of course, a logical conclusion of the Skapa’s equality in their society. However, it would make it more difficult for him. He could not even count on the Skapa deciding on the strongest. Neither their culture nor their biology worked that way.

 

He stepped into the sunlight and scowled. A trip to Jötunheimr was a good idea. People stepped out of his way as he made his way across the wide courtyard that connected different areal of the palace ground.

 

The hospital was busy as always. He scoffed as he remembered the newest rumor going around. He, the guardian angel. That was what they had named his Skapa. They should be aware that if he were the guardian angel he would have quid his endeavor as soon as he had heard this ridiculous name. 

 

His amused mood disappeared as he heard the term ergi wafting over to him. Of course, the skapa was facing the same ridicule as him. It very well could be the reason for his persistent hiding. Not everyone had a strong enough backbone to listen to those comments as he did. 

 

He threw the offenders a glare, who paled and quickly apologized with a deep bow. He sneered at them, not feeling the slightest bit forgiving. They merely apologized because he still was one of the princes of Asgard, regardless of his feminine disposition of seidr. 

 

He climbed the stairs to the third floor where the apothecary and the storage were located.  
However, before he could reach his destination, he was stopped by a female voice.

 

“Prince Loki, if you are here concerning your request, I fear nothing has changed since your last visit.”  
Turning his head slightly, he gave his mother’s head healer a short glance. “I am here to retrieve a few ingredients from the storage, Lady Aya.”  
“In this case, I hope you will find everything you require,” she bowed reverently, but her face was a tight, disapproving mask.

 

Strictly speaking, it was not allowed to retrieve ingredients if you were not a healer and requiring them for a patient, however, his status as prince granted him certain rights the other hadn’t. 

 

Inclining his head politely, he continued on his way. Once on the third level, he ignored the door to his right where the long-term patients were cared for and turned towards the third door on the left. 

 

He was about to pull it open when a small figure bumped into him.  
“Who dares to…” he began and turned his scowl downwards, only for his eyes to land on the nuisance of a sword-fight tutoring student. 

He was about to send a scathing remark the annoying boy’s way when the little thing dared to open his mouth again.  
“You.” 

 

“I see the friendship with my dear brother has given you confidence. Only that you seem to forget that he is not more powerful than I am,” he let his magic flare and blocked the little nuisance way. A smirk stretched his lips as he saw the boy flinch. Midgardians were not completely insensitive morons. 

 

“I… I am sorry, Prince Loki. I didn’t mean to be disrespectful,” the little thing mumbled.

 

He sneered at the blatant lie. He knew the excuse. They feared his magic as much as they ridiculed it. 

“Doubtlessly. But using my potions you still do without hesitation. After all, your little herbal concoctions are barely enough to cure a mild headache,” he sneered.

 

His eyes roamed the small, weak body for the shiver that was bound to follow, however, it never came. Instead, those green eyes turned up to meet his, flashing.  
“If I am disrespectful, then not because you are a mage but because you are annoying and rude!” 

 

“Annoying and rude?!” He repeated, his voice a mixture of disbelieve and anger, even in his eas. 

 

“Yes,” the boy hissed.  
For a split second, he thought the kit wouldn’t have the guts to elaborate, but then he continued:  
“For days now you turn up at each of my training sessions, playing your childish pranks and laughing about me and your brother! So what? Your brother is only a warrior and I a weak healer?”

 

Anger rose inside of Loki like cold, white fire, however, the Midgardian didn’t give him a chance to cut him of. He just continued, his blazing eyes still brazenly fixed on his.

 

“But I tell you what: Your brother is a powerful and respected warrior who won many battles. He is good, kind-hearted and not too proud to help a mere student. And I have helped countless patients by now. A lot with mild thinks like a mild headache and a few with dangerous injuries. What have you done these last weeks besides annoying your surroundings?”

The boy finally cut himself off, however, before Loki could find a comeback of his own, the little healer in training pushed past him, his trolley forgotten in the doorway, and rushed down the staircase.

 

He sneered at the retreating back. He had planned on leaving his brother in peace for at least some time, now where he soon would have a lead to his skapa, however it seemed, the Thunderer would not be so lucky. And neither would be that insolent Midgardian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, how was it? good? Bad? was it satisfying after the long absence? Please review :-)
> 
> JSG

**Author's Note:**

> So, this was the first chapter. Please write me a review if you liked it, because as I said earlier, I really need the cookies ;-)
> 
> Also, do you want me to describeLoki as blue skinned as in the Marvel movies? I am not quite sure if I can imagine that so well. I thought maybe I could describe him more grey skinned, with blue shadows under his eyes and upon his cheeks and lips like someone who is freezing. What do you think? 
> 
> Also, when Harry and Loki. meet the first time, should Loki be in his Jötun former in a human formalise in the movies and only reveal his true nature later?
> 
> Please help me with the decisions. The sooner I can decide, the sooner the next chapter will be out.
> 
>  
> 
> JSG


End file.
